Little Miss Sulky

Privately, I call her ‘Little Miss Sulky’. Tara, my wife’s daughter from her first marriage is a mass of seething teenage hormones and temper tantrums wrapped up in a nicely curved-in-all-the-right-places, curly-blonde-headed package. She is an fairly ordinary, nice looking kid…no that’s not right, emerging young woman…or rather, she would be without the constant sulkily pouting lips and sullen frown. She really is very pretty when she smiles, which is all too seldom.

Tara fiercely resents her mother for finally leaving and then divorcing her husband to escape the regular drunken Saturday night beatings and marital rapes. Tara still thinks the sun shines out of the bastard’s backside! Her face lights up whenever it is time for she and her brother, Jim Jnr, to go on one of their court-ordered visits. It seems as if that is the only time she is ever happy.

But even more fiercely, Tara resents that one day her mother met me – in a clash of trundlers at a supermarket checkout! And she is really pissed that Shelley and I instantly liked each other, became friends, then lovers, and then decided to marry, thus cutting Jim out of the picture altogether. Besotted with her father, Tara has made life hell for the rest of us ever since. Even Jim Jnr doesn’t escape her wrath. Her battles with Shelley are frequent and immense, and usually end up in tears with Tara slamming her way to her bedroom in high dudgeon. And the hot stares of pure hatred the girl throws in my direction on a daily basis need to be seen to be believed! I do my best to talk to her, but my attempts at gentle humour are received with disdain and “one of those looks”.

I became a househusband. A few months after our wedding, I got caught out in an accident on a construction site when some contractors were tearing down an old building before the company I worked for as a civil engineer could start the new project. Under normal circumstances I would have been out of harm’s way, but a collapsing wall demolished the lightly fabricated site office where I was working. Two of my assistants died and I ended up in intensive care. Laid out immobile on my back, I speculated that no doubt Tara was pretty disappointed that I survived. Luckily, our income didn’t suffer too greatly. Shelley was able to go back to working at the bank, where she had been an account manager until Tara was born, and she was quickly re-assimilated into that role. And as I got better, I resumed some of my engineering work, but by remote as a consultant instead of full time.

Therefore, I am generally here when everyone gets home. Jim Jnr spends lots of time with his buddies after school and only arrives to wash up before dinner. Shelley shows up between 6.30 and 7pm, although she sometimes surprises us all by getting home early. So most often, Tara is the first one to show her face and, of course, she heads to her room without even acknowledging my presence.

But the day before yesterday is different…

Instead of going to her room, Tara comes into the kitchen, where I am starting to prepare the evening meal. She doesn’t speak, just stands at the other end of the room leaning against the bench with her back to me, drinking the glass of water she has just drawn from the tap. I notice that her shoulders are slumped. In fact, her whole body language says that she is thoroughly dejected.

“What’s up, kiddo?” I ask, speaking quietly and not looking at her. “Bad day at ‘the office’?”

I am startled by a muffled sob. I shoot a quick glance in Tara’s direction and see that her shoulders are shaking.

I stop what I am doing and dry my hands. “Hey Tara, what’s up? Any way I can help?”

“No…there’s nothing you can do!”

The usual helpless feeling a male gets when he is faced with a female in tears overcomes me. I move close to her and put my hand on her shoulder, “C’mon…even though we don’t get along the best, I’m still here for you…” There is a sudden thought in the back of my mind that maybe Tara has got herself pregnant. “You’re not ‘in trouble’ are you…?”

She turns to look at me. Tears streak her cheeks and her eyeliner has run. “In trouble…? Oh…no…you mean…? No, nothing like that!” She smiles ruefully and murmurs again, “No, nothing like that…” more to herself than to me.

Tara mops her face with the backs of her hands, spreading her makeup around even more. She looks like a rather sad Panda. “It’s just girl stuff…”

“Aaaaah…” Another instant male reaction – the time of the month!

“No, it’s not that either. It’s just that on the way home two of my best friends…or at least I thought they were my best friends…came out and told me I am a fat slob. And then they said that I’d never get to go out with any really good-looking guys until I lose a lot of weight. They were so mean…!”

Tara stands no chance of some day walking the catwalks as a model, the stocky, build she inherited from her father is against her, but if she is sensible with her diet and gets plenty of exercise, neither will she get fat.

“Oh come on!” I exclaim. “I don’t know where they got the ‘you’re fat’ bit from…you look just fine to me…perfectly normal in fact. And you certainly aren’t a slob…you look after your hair and clothes and things beautifully…no bullshit! I suppose they’re a couple of skinny flat-chested…!”

“They are so slim and pretty! And they have nice tits. All the guys chase after them…”

I shook my head, “Jesus, some people! I tell you, if I were a young guy looking for a girlfriend, I’d pick a curvy, good-looking girl like you before one of those anorexic bitches who walk like they’ve got a broomstick permanently up their butt…!”

To my surprise, Tara turns to me, puts her arms around my middle and presses up to my front. I instinctively put my arms around her.

“Do you really mean that…?” Her voice is muffled against my chest.

“Bet your cute ass I do…!” It was meant as a joke, but my stepdaughter really does have quite a cute ass; the kind of springy handfuls a guy likes grab hold of while he’s sliding his cock in and out of a chick’s hot little snatch.

“Thank you, Dave…”

I know I should break away, but Tara feels so good in my arms. Her generous breasts bore into my chest. I can feel her warm belly against mine. I do not mean it to happen, but my body reacts. I begin to get hard. I think to myself, “Shit, Dave! She’s your wife’s daughter! She’s twenty years younger than you are for Chrissakes!” and then “Oh God, I hope she can’t feel my dick!”

Yet, I still clasp her to me.

We hold each other for what seems like aeons, although it is only a few seconds. My pulse thumps like a bass drum in my ears. I can feel my blood singing through my veins. Then I realise that, yes, Tara can feel my erection. She is pushing her pelvis closer to my hardness, and is rubbing her belly against it.

We both know we are tumbling into the danger zone and should stop this now! Yet we still clasp each other tightly.

Her thick golden mane of hair is loose today. Tara sometimes wears it tied up in a ponytail, showing off her neck. She has a lovely neck; it is one of her best features. I sometimes find myself wondering how it would feel to stroke the skin of that fragile seeming column. Ok, I have always had a “thing” about the back of a woman’s neck. Without prior thought, I slide a hand up her back, under the heavy strands of hair and inside the collar of her school shirt. She is just as I imagined, soft and smooth, yet strong as well. I stroke her skin with the pads of my fingertips and Tara presses ever tighter to me.

Suddenly, her grasp on my waist slackens. I find myself breathing a deep internal sigh of disappointment that the moment is over. But no! Tara is not moving away from me! Instead, still using me for support, she is sinking slowly to her knees! By stroking the back of her neck I was not telling to her to do this. I wasn’t pushing her down, or anything like that! But she must think I was! I should stop her and make it right, but I don’t. With my heart pounding, I let my stepdaughter to go on down. Her cheek slides down my chest and down my belly until she comes to kneel on the tiled floor before me with her forehead resting on my belt buckle.

My cock feels like an iron bar in my pants. All reason leaves me. My whole being cries out to me to get that hard flesh out and push it between Little Miss Sulky’s pouting lips! I tell myself that she must do this all the time with her boyfriends. She wants it! She loves it!

The sound of my zipper sliding down is like ripping metal. Tara must know what I intend to do. I tell myself that if she pulls away now, I will not force her! But a little voice inside me says “Come on Dave, you’re not so sure about that!’

Tara tilts her head back, but not away from me; she is still holding on to me by my hips. Her eyes are closed, or perhaps she is looking down; her eyelashes are very long on her cheeks. She is making room for me to put my hand inside my pants to get my cock out - she wants it!

Tara does not flinch when my member finally appears in the open, so she must have her eyes closed. It looks huge, gnarled and angry this close to the smooth soft skin of her face. I present the bulging mushroom cap to her mouth. Dark purple-pink presses purposefully on sulky delicate pink cushions. My cock feels heavy in my fingers; my balls swell with seed in their sac. Her lips are so soft! Delicate gives way to hot purposeful power. I press against her teeth. Tara opens her jaws wide. I wonder if she can take me in, I look and feel so massive!

I slide the head of my cock into her wet warmth. She just lets it happen. Very quickly, I realise that I am wrong – Tara has never done this with anybody before. I should pull back, but it is too late for that now. Just the same, I don’t want to frighten her, so I fuck her face gently, just moving in and out by a few millimetres. I can feel my glans sliding forwards and backwards over her lips, her bottom teeth and her tongue.

I stroke her hair affectionately and I feel her move her tongue on me. Tara is learning fast. She moves her head forward, taking me deeper into her mouth. Her tongue is working vigorously on me now, roiling over the head of my cock and exploring the ridged underside. The tingling warning of an impending climax grows in the area behind my balls. She must taste my pre-cum. Tara is breathing heavily through her nose. I look down at her in wonderment at the way her lips circle my cock and how wide it stretches her mouth. Even though they are contained within a bra, her nipples stick out hard through the cotton of her school shirt, She has pulled her skirt up her thighs and is rubbing between her legs through her panties. Her panties are pale blue with tiny red flowers printed on them.

The sight of Tara touching her pussy swiftly brings on my orgasm. I warn her so that she can take her mouth away, “Tara, I’m going to cum…”

She carries on licking at my cock head and fucking me with her mouth. She is holding my cock in her fingers now and sucking on me very gently.

I am desperate! “Tara! I’m going to cum!”

It is too late. She can feel my cock jerking and pulsing in her fingers anyway! Fierce jolts of pleasure wrack my body. I hear Tara gulping and gasping for air as she frantically tries to swallow the floods of sperm I am spurting into her. She tongues the sensitive underside of my cock and sharp, renewed spasms blast through me. I try to take my cock away, but she follows me with her mouth, determined to keep me there until the very end.

I let her lick and suck me, extracting every drop of semen from my body. I tremble with pleasure at each and every caress from her tongue. My cock softens and shrinks, eventually falling out from between her lips - a small, wrinkled tube of flesh, a caricature of the potent rod it was a few minutes before. It is wet with her saliva. A small dribble of after-cum drips from its tip onto her bare leg. Her lips look dark, swollen, bruised. She is holding her pussy under her skirt, but is no longer rubbing herself. She does not look at my cock; her eyes are still closed.

I am just about to drop to my knees, to take her in my arms, to hold her, to tell her that I didn’t mean that to happen, and how sorry I am, when we hear the sound of Shelley’s car in the driveway. She is home very early. Thank God she didn’t arrive five minutes sooner! Tara scrambles to her feet and heads for her room. “Tell her I’m doing my homework,” she calls out as she runs out of the kitchen.

The change in Tara’s demeanour amazes everybody else at the dinner table. She is as nice as pie to me and equally considerate to her mother. Even Jim Jnr takes time out from shovelling food past his ever-hungry jaws to exchange a few jokes with her. After the meal I notice Tara and her mother talking earnestly in the kitchen, which culminates in Shelley taking a long, speculative look in my direction. “Oh shit! Tara has told her all about this afternoon!” repeats endlessly in my mind. But when my wife joins me afterwards to watch TV she says nothing. Eventually, almost bursting at the seams with curiosity, and no small amount of trepidation, I have to ask, “What was all that about between you and Tara?”

“Oh, I was telling her how nice it was to have her back to normal at last…and she was telling me how great you are and that you helped her out with her biology project… I didn’t know you are such an expert…”

Almost choking with relief, I manage to get out something like; “You’d be astonished at the things us engineers have to know about!”

Later, in bed, Shelley is feeling very friendly, in spite of it being a workday in the morning. When I ease my willing cock into her familiar, wet warm channel, after preparing her with my tongue, I can’t help wondering how it would feel do this with Tara. But all thoughts of my stepdaughter leave my mind as my wife rolls us over, so that she is on top, and proceeds to fuck the living daylights out of me! Her screams and my shouts of ecstasy when we orgasm together echo in the night. And then we sleep in a sweaty, naked, happily sex-smeared tangle until the alarm wakes us in the morning.

Little Miss Sulky is back to her old self at breakfast time. For no apparent reason, a flaming row erupts between the girl and her mother. Then I overhear Tara’s shouted accusation: “You were carrying on like animals!” which almost results in Shelley slapping her daughter's face. When I try to pour oil on the troubled waters, Tara yells at me to “Mind your own fucking business!” which sets the argument off all over again. I am thankful for the peace and quiet when everybody has left.

I am sitting in my favourite armchair in the lounge reviewing a project report I’ve just finished when Tara arrives home from school. She goes straight to her room. I don’t blame her. After what happened yesterday afternoon she has every right to avoid me. But then she surprises me by coming into the lounge. She stands in front of me with her hands clasped behind her back, still wearing her school uniform shirt and skirt, but she has taken off her shoes and socks, and is barefoot. Her breasts protrude under her shirt most invitingly. As I look at them, her nipples harden. I cannot prevent my cock hardening in unison, but I pray that she cannot see my growing excitement.

I start to talk about what I made her do, and to make the apology I didn’t get to voice, but she is not interested. She drops to her knees and pushes my knees apart. She crawls between them and rests her elbows on the tops of my thighs. She has undone the two top buttons of her shirt so that I can see into her cleavage. Her breasts look soft, warm and inviting. Tara cradles her chin in her hands and looks me in the face. She says, “Don’t worry about yesterday, Dave…I enjoyed it…I want us to do it again…”

I start to protest, to say “No!” but she silences me by reaching out and starting to undo my zipper. “I know you are interested,” she murmurs, “I can see you are already growing an erection...”

I can’t take my eyes off her sulky lips while she speaks. My mind is full of how good it felt yesterday when I pushed my cock in between them and into her mouth.

“Get it out” she tells me, “I want to see it…”

Once again, I try to tell her “No!” and once again she cuts me off, this time by telling me, “If you don’t, I’ll tell Mum all about what you did to me yesterday…”

It is difficult to get my cock out while I am sitting down. It is so stiff it gets tangled up in my underpants, making her giggle with amusement. Tara laughs so seldom it is heart warming to hear her now, even under these circumstances. Eventually, I get my cock free. It stands up like a defiant flagpole pointing directly at her face.

She closely examines every millimetre of my hard flesh, gently pushing it forward and back, and from side to side, so that she doesn’t miss a single detail. She traces the purple-roped veins with a fingernail and I tingle inside with pleasure. A drop of pre-cum emerges. With her fingertip, Tara spreads it around the silky skin of my cock-head, making it gleam, then carries her finger to her mouth to get my taste. She looks me right in the eye when she licks her fingertip.

“What are you thinking, Tara?” I ask myself.

With a secretive smile, Tara lowers her face to my cock. Her tongue flickers over my cock-head and then down my shaft. Soft little kisses trace the path followed by her fingernail a few moments before. The pressure builds within me. She returns to my glans. A wiping flick of her tongue makes my cock jump in her fingers. My mushroom head bumps against her nose. “All right then…” she murmurs softly, shaking my shaft gently from side to side. “Don’t be so impatient!”

Tara eases me between her lips. With fingers and tongue and gentle sucks, she takes me teasingly to my climax. When she feels the first tremors shake my cock, she opens her mouth wide and rests just its tip on her tongue so that I can see my sperm shoot from me and into her mouth. She swallows it down and then sucks me dry. And when I am done, she tucks my shrivelled softness back into my pants.

“Was that nice?” she asks me ingenuously.

“I-it w-was amazing…” I stammer. “I was wondering…”

“How I got so good in such a short time? Don’t worry, I haven’t been practising on anybody else, I got some of the girls at school to tell me how they do it…”

Still somewhat stunned, I decide I must reward her…I should go down on her and give her equal pleasure. I convince myself that it is just for her, but in reality it is all for me. I want to possess her. I want to look at her between the legs to see if her pussy lips pout as sulkily as her other lips do, and I want to smell and taste her youth.

I get out of the armchair and help her take my place. I don’t have to tell Tara what I am going to do, she guesses already. It is a big chair; Tara looks lost in it. She half lies; half sits on the seat with her body twisted so that her head rests on one arm. Her eyes are closed.

She lets me arrange her, as acquiescent as a rag doll. She lets me push the front of her skirt up her thighs to her waist without a murmur of protest. I look at her legs; their skin is richly plump, soft and smooth. Her panties are a pale primrose triangle today. The small hillock of her mound excites me. I am impatient to feel its chubby pad and supple hairs pressing on my nose while I explore her vaginal slit with my tongue. She lets me part her thighs. I peer between them, closely examining the cloth that hides her pussy. It is stained, damp – Tara is, or has been, very sexually aroused.

Starting at the inside of one soft knee, I move with swift licking kisses up her inner thigh until I reach yellow. I briefly kiss the cloth covering her mons and breathe in her female odour. Then I kiss my way down the other thigh to her other knee. I straighten up to look at her again. Her eyes are still closed. All the while I was kissing her, Tara did not react to the touch of my lips. But the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the slight bouncing of her belly skin caused by thump of her heavily beating heart tell me she is far from indifferent to what I am doing to her.