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Step-daughter Dry Hump
by Lefty (leftyhandman@gmail.com)

***

I come home from work, only expecting to get a little 
tease time in with my wife. I wind up getting a dry 
hump from her 15 year old daughter, with my wife only 
ten feet away, and oblivious to what's going on. (M/f-
teen, inc, ped, breasts, no sex)

***

Author Note: Give me your opinion of my little story 
here, just shoot me an e-mail. A good response will 
be returned in kind. Flames and trolls will be 
ignored. Persistent flames and trolls will be ignored 
even harder. Cheers, Lefty

***
	
By the time I reached 34 years old, I pretty much 
thought my chances of meeting a woman, falling in 
love, getting married, and starting a family of my own 
were pretty much over. What I had done with my life up 
to that point had kept me out of the country, fairly 
well isolated from others, and with little chance of 
meeting a woman I could actually have a long term 
relationship with. 

So I changed careers, gave myself the opportunity to 
stay in one place for a while, see what panned out. I 
guess I hadn't quite written off marriage yet, but 
children were probably out of the question. I figured 
step-children to be a given. That really didn't sound 
so bad to me. I'm a step-child myself, raised partly 
by my step-dad. Why should I have anything against 
that? As I thought about it, I realized I didn't. 

Still, I just dismissed the whole thought. I have 
never been a social person. Me meeting someone, and 
actually being with her as far as marriage? I'd never 
had a girlfriend last more than a few months. It was 
the realization that when I left for work in the 
morning, I wouldn't be back until at least two months 
later, and sometimes be gone as many as six months 
before coming home again that killed it. Every time. 

So, if I was going to get married, I'd have to change 
that. I did, and realized I had no idea how to go out 
and meet women in this country. I thought to myself, 
'Done. Fuck it. Hobbies, and jacking off will be my 
social life for the rest of my lonely life.'

Four months later I met her. She was 38, red headed, 
large breasted (F-cup), broad hipped, long legged, and 
just plain old voluptuously sexy. I mean real 
voluptuous, too. My favorite description of what 
voluptuous is goes back to an old Melanie Griffith 
movie; the little boy in the movie with her was 
looking at a picture of Loni Anderson taped to the 
side of a cash register, the boy commented, “She's 
fat.”

Melanie replied, “No, she's not fat, she's 
voluptuous.”

The boy asked what that meant, she said “It means 
she's fat in all the right places.” Internet ladies 
who use the term voluptuous to describe yourselves, 
I'm sorry to tell you this, but Melanie is right. If 
your belly exceeds the size of your bust, you're fat. 
Now, don't get pissy with me just yet, because you are 
still beautiful. That's why they have the BBW 
description, I just ask that you use the right 
terminology to describe yourself. I'm a heavy man 
myself, so I don't hold a woman's weight against her. 
I'd rather have her hold her weight against me!

Okay, enough of the cheesy cornball jokes, back to the 
story. I do stand by what I said in that last 
paragraph, though.

We married a few months after I turned 35. She had 
three children from her previous marriage, and they 
were now my step-children. The older two lived with 
their father, the youngest lived with her. She was two 
weeks shy of her 14th birthday when I met her. She was 
built like her mother, only taller, with dark brown 
hair, and not quite yet as busty. Though the pictures 
I had seen of her mother at that age, she wore a B-
cup. 

This girl who was soon to be my step-daughter was 
firmly in a D-cup, and growing. She was in a DD (or E, 
depending on the bra company) by the time she was 
fifteen. Her tits were much larger than they were at 
13, almost 14, but her chest had grown proportionately 
larger as well, so just one cup size up was all that 
was needed. 

Her older sister wore a G-cup, but I never really got 
the chance to know her until after she graduated high 
school, and moved in with us. Since this story is 
about the one that mattered to me, that's all I'll say 
about her, but her over-sized jugs prove that there is 
a big titty gene in their family. Obviously passed 
from mother to daughter, but is that where it ended? 

Yes, that is where it ended. It's a little bit of a 
mystery where my wife's F-cups came from. She had 
graduated high school wearing only a C-cup. It wasn't 
until after first child that she started going into 
the D-cup range and beyond. She told me that with her 
second and third pregnancies, she had made it to G and 
H cups. It was after she finished breastfeeding her 
youngest, and the milk stopped, that she finally 
evened out at an F. Her family then? 

Her mother had the tits of a ten year old boy. The 
women I met on her father's side would have considered 
a B-cup buxom. There must have been a recessive gene 
in both families that became dominant in my wife and 
her daughters. Since I love big tits, the bigger the 
better, this was paradise for me. Though I only 
intentionally groped the one I married, her younger 
daughter did provide me a chance. 

Of the three kids, she was the one that mattered to 
me. Partly because she was there, partly because the 
other two were passed the age of needing a dad. At 
least in the manner that I would have provided. The 
oldest was a 19 year old son, who was about to become 
a father himself, so he needed nothing from me. The G-
cup girl was 15, almost 16, when I met her. Maybe we 
would have been closer sooner had she lived with us 
then instead of later, but she still wouldn't have 
really needed me as a dad. The youngest, though, she 
hated her father, but still needed a dad. In time her 
relationship with her father improved, but I fit the 
role she needed. 

She developed a little crush on me early on. It would 
fade when she got interested in a boy her age, but 
come back stronger after they split up. She had also 
gotten her mother's chronic case of the hornies, too. 
Massive sex drives in these two. 

Myself, I got a little bored with my wife's sex drive. 
After a while, fucking her was like fucking a corpse: 
missionary position, banging my dick into the same 
spot until she came, which took only about 30 seconds. 
I hear women complain about men in bed, not going the 
distance. We had quite the role reversal going on 
here, but I did my best to work with it, though. She 
would get so upset if I didn't cum, but she would be 
dry five minutes after cumming herself. If I kept 
going, it would hurt her. No fun there. So I'd try out 
little things, trying to get her to cum throughout the 
day, hoping she would last a little longer when we 
really got down to it. Hell, I only needed ten 
minutes. She eventually started slapping me away, 
telling me I didn't know what the hell I was doing. 
Yeah, ultimately, we didn't last. 

All beside the point of this story, so let's get back 
to my daughter's crush. Yes, daughter. I always called 
her that. I don't have kids of my own, and since she 
hated her father, we just rolled with it. She never 
called me dad, but that's how she introduced me to her 
friends. Some of her girlfriends called me 'daddy', 
and it made me giggle to hear it. It got a little 
weird sometimes when I'd show up at the high school 
for whatever reason, and hear the scream of daddy, and 
be glomped on 3 sides, by 3 obviously unrelated girls. 
I felt loved, though, accepted. I certainly did not 
mind those teenage breasts being pressed into me. 

One day, when my daughter was 15, I had just come home 
from... somewhere, probably work. She was in the 
kitchen, I went in to get a drink of water. Turned out 
she was in an 'I love daddy' mood. I gave her a hug 
from behind, kissed the side of her neck, and asked 
her how was school. I missed it then, but when I 
kissed her neck, she pressed her butt back into my 
crotch. She giggled, said it sucked, then waited for 
me to leave the kitchen, kind of hovering at my 
shoulder. 

I went back to the bedroom, intending to molest my 
wife while she was in the bathroom, getting ready for 
work herself. She always got pissed when I'd kiss her, 
and make her have to put on her lipstick again. She 
was often naked when in the bathroom, so I'd pull out 
my cock, and rub it in her ass-crack. I couldn't be 
too aggressive, or she'd hurt herself in some way; 
mascara or eyeliner jabbed in the eye, toothbrush down 
the throat, something stupid like that. 

When she bent over to do something in the sink, I'd 
slip into her pussy, and gently fuck her. The bathroom 
was small, so I had to be gentle, otherwise I'd put a 
hole in the wall behind me, and drive her face through 
the mirror. All this little game did was get us ready 
for when she got home. Unfortunately there was no game 
that evening; she was fully dressed, made up, and 
working on her hair. I had to settle for a kiss, 
fondle her through her clothing, then hear about the 
destruction of her lipstick. 
	
I went back out to the bedroom. I was about to sit 
down on the bed, and pull off my shoes, when the girl 
came charging into the room at me. She threw her arms 
around my neck, and tackled me onto the bed. She had a 
wild look in her eyes, like she was ready to start 
laughing madly. She leaned over my face, and gave me a 
big wet kiss on the cheek. 

"Well, hello!" I said, and began to kiss her all 
around her neck and face making an 'om nom nom' sound. 
She began to laugh hysterically as I buzzed around her 
head and neck. 

While I was doing that, she pulled her legs up onto 
the bed, and she straddled me. Placed herself so her 
jean covered teenage pussy was right over my jean 
covered cock, and she started to grind. Her mother was 
maybe ten feet away in the bathroom, now with the hair 
dryer running. She goes completely deaf when she has 
that thing blasting her head, and she basically goes 
through an aerobic workout whipping her hair about 
trying to get the right lift and fullness out of it. I 
could have fired gun right then, and she wouldn't have 
heard it, let alone heard the bed creak as her 
daughter dry humped me. 

So, as I was lying there feeling my daughter grind my 
rapidly hardening dick, I figured what the hell. I 
reached around, gave her ass a squeeze, and gave her 
nip on the collarbone. The collarbone is a sensitive 
spot on her mother, and apparently worked for her, 
too. She pulled away from my face, placing her massive 
melons right in sucking distance. 

She normally wore a tank top of some kind under her t-
shirts to help contain them, but she wasn't wearing 
one then. All she had on was a v-neck t-shirt that was 
cut wide, and low. When she slid her chest to give 
access, the neck was pulled even lower, releasing her 
bra covered tits. 

Being that we were acting like a couple of teenage 
idiots, I buried my face into the soft valley of her 
cleavage, and motor-boated her for all I was worth. 
She pressed her chest into my face, burying me in even 
deeper. With the soft warmth of her skin, the smell of 
her perfume, I found myself starting to push my hard 
cock back into her grinding hips. I was sorely tempted 
to reach up, pull the cups of her bra out of the way, 
and feast at her what I assume to be luscious nipples. 
Unfortunately, hair only takes so long to dry. 

I heard the hair dryer shut off in the bathroom, so I 
quickly pulled my face out of her bra, spanked her 
tight round ass, and kicked her over onto her back, 
rolling with her, so I ended on top of her. Then I sat 
back onto my heels. This allowed her shirt to spring 
back into place. Then, trying to cover our now awkward 
positions, I tickled her, making her scream with 
laughter until she said she was about to pee. I let 
her up, and she jumped up off the bed, running to her 
bathroom. 

If my wife saw anything she felt was inappropriate, 
she never said. My step-daughter and I never played 
like that afterward. When her mother went to work that 
night, she left to hang out with her friends. When my 
wife got home, we had the wonderful dinner, and I took 
her to bed. I pretty much abused my rights as a 
husband that night. 

When we got done, my wife said, "Jesus Christ! What 
got into you? It's like you were trying to shove my 
womb up my throat!"

At least we came at the same time that night.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 78