I woke up already wet for him.
It happened every morning now. Eyes still closed, hand already sliding under the waistband of my sleep shorts, fingers finding the slick heat between my legs while my mind filled with the same forbidden images. My stepfather. David. The way his shirts stretched across his chest. The low sound of his voice. The thick veins on the back of his hands when he gripped a mug.
I pushed two fingers inside myself and bit down on a moan.
You’re insane, I told myself.
He’s married to your mother.
He would never touch you.
But my body didn’t care. I rubbed my c**t in tight circles and imagined it was his hand instead of mine. Imagined him pinning me against the kitchen counter and pushing into me like he had been starving for it. I came hard and fast, thighs shaking
