Loving Stepfather

A Loving Stepfather

I met my wife over ten years ago, and we have been married for seven. I didn't take on just a wife, but her daughter as well. It was difficult at first. The little girl missed her dad, she feared that I was taking her mum away, found it difficult to have to listen and take discipline from me - all the typical step-parent issues. Time passed, however, and we became closer. I had been told by friends with daughters that there were phases where kids became closer to one parent than the other. Maybe they needed a different role model, or perhaps it was more down to social preferences - or maybe one parent simply spoke to them differently. Who knew - I wasn't about to start reading lengthy books of psychological research - but it happens.

So it was that we finally became closer, shared interests (incredibly, she developed a fascination for cricket) and I finally started to feel like a real parent.

Then came the accident. One day, she was a typical girl, walking to the shop with her friends, the next she was lying in hospital, thanks to an idiot driving too fast. She lost her left leg below the knee and her right leg was badly broken. She had physiotherapy and months of therapy, both physical and mental. The upshot was, my beautiful step-daughter would never be the same.

She rebuilt herself, and the compensation meant we enjoyed a very pleasant lifestyle, but as she got older, she was becoming increasingly aware that certain aspects of her life could never match up to those of her friends. A simple walk, dancing, going into town, sports and so much else all closed off, despite her electric wheelchair, and she resented it. Most of all, she resented the boyfriends.

"You try it," she once told her mum, "most guys aren't interested in anything apart from ... well ... the obvious. Who wants a girlfriend who's always waist high? Who needs help getting into an ordinary chair? Who can't get over the step at their front door? Who's going to be non-stop hard work?

"Of course, there's some who show interest. Perverts. Did you know, there are guys who get turned on by amputees? I've had them ask to see my stump. As if I like that term or want to show it. All my mates go off with their wonderful boyfriends, and I get left with a pity date or a pervert. Forget it. I'd rather go without."

I had been listening at the door, and as my wife started to appease her, I decided to slope away. I was determined not to pity Emma. She hated pity, determined not to play the victim, and while it was tempting to adopt that role, I was determined not to. It was one of the things which strengthened my relationship with her, and I was desperate to avoid messing things up.

Emma had wanted to go to University, and had the necessary grades, but was reluctant to leave home. She could easily have done so - she was independent, the campuses were adapted to her needs and she would easily have managed. However, she decided to do her degree at home. She would be close to familiar healthcare services, would have everything around her adapted to her needs, and life would be easier.

We had become closer as she had grown older. Perhaps it was because I was ten years younger than her mum, so a bit closer to her eighteen years (although still double that), or maybe because my degree was in psychology, the subject she was studying with the aim of becoming a counsellor for people who had experienced the same challenges as herself. Whatever, we spent a lot of time discussing her course, the music which we enjoyed (eighties rock) and cricket, which she continued to adore.

With her mother, she held long, 'girly' chats, about emotions, relationships, periods, diets, all the things mothers and daughters typically discussed. I preferred to avoid such subjects - not through any prudery or embarrassment, but because her mother was well in control of the situation, and I was happy to leave her to it. It provided a good balance to our respective relationships.

Emma also discussed sex with her mother. As a couple, her mum and I enjoyed a very 'enthusiastic' and 'creative' sex life. We made love several times a week, and often pushed our boundaries with light bondage, spanking, toys and anything else to help our fantasies. My wife may have been older than me, but she was gorgeous. Time at the gym and careful monitoring of her diet kept her body looking amazing, and she had a naturally beautiful face - and she knew it.

We had, for a while, tried swinging. That was before Emma's accident, when her dad used to take her for weekends - before he lost interest. That happened before the accident - he would arrive late to collect her, then couldn't make it, the gaps becoming longer each time. After her accident, he saw her a few times, then disappeared. And without time to ourselves, swinging just stopped.

Thankfully, our sex life did not. It became our solace, and remained vigorous, despite the tragedy and despite the pressures on us as carers. We just loved being naked together, and when Emma slept, we would strip and indulge ourselves.

Emma must have been aware. Her mobility limitations meant she could not walk in on us, but she had ears, and must have heard - especially as her room was next to ours. As such, and because of her mum's open manner and belief that curiosity should be satisfied with openness and honesty, Emma grew up open and honest.

I first realised how open when I looked for a specific vibrator with which to pleasure Julia (my wife).

"Where's it gone? I'm sure it was here."

"Oh - the purple one? Er ... no, it isn't there."

"Well, where is it?"

"I ... er ... I lent it to Emma."

My face must have been a picture. Then my wife explained. Emma had been experiencing sexual feelings, and had been masturbating for some time. Recently, she had felt dis-satisfied, and wanted more. She had no desire for a boyfriend, but wanted something inside her. Julia explained that this was not the first time Emma had borrowed her toys - at first wands and clit suckers, for external pleasure, and now moving on to internal stimulation, having ensured that her hymen was broken.

At first, I was shocked, but on reflection, I realised that it made sense. One thing many people don't always recognise about disability is the indignity. Doctors prod and poke, nurses treat private bodily functions casually. Emma's accident had meant that, from an early age, she had needed to get used to not only constant prodding, poking and examining, but talking about sensations and feelings - physical and emotional - which, for many, would be either internalised, or kept to a very close peer group.

The fears of spinal damage or internal injury, as well as the psychological probing, meant Emma was desensitized to embarrassment, and as her mum was her main carer, it was she who had been her confidante. It was good that Julia was so open-minded. She had encouraged Emma to talk and allowed her to explore her body in ways that were unthinkable to most eighteen-year-olds, and awakened sexual feelings which, I suspect, Emma would have suppressed.

Once I was aware of what was happening, Julia was very open about the sharing of sex toys. I saw Emma I a whole new light. She was no longer the strong minded, but delicate disabled girl. She was a woman - a beautiful one. She had inherited her mother's looks, and physiotherapy and exercise had ensured she had a great figure. She had almond-shaped, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips, framed by flowing, dark hair. She was slim, but had developed firm, rounded curves above her flat, toned stomach and gently widening hips.

Of course, I rarely saw her bum, as it was generally planted on her wheelchair, but I suspected that it, too, was toned and firm as a result of the chair-based, but quite vigorous exercise which she undertook each day. Below that, however, her legs were another matter. She kept them covered, but, obviously, one ended just above the knee, and the other was wasted, due to the shattering which it suffered. I tended to overlook them, however, and focus on her upper body.

I had often wondered about her genitals - if she had lost sensitivity, or would experience pain if penetrated, if they had been damaged by the accident (I knew she had scars on her body beyond her legs, but had only really seen those on her arms) - I even wondered if the psychological harm had resulted in her being unable to feel sexual pleasure. I now realised how stupid these thoughts were.

I suppose I, like many people, saw disabled people as asexual, but following my discovery about Emma's masturbation, I re-evaluated. How naïve I had been. I was, in fact, embarrassed that I had been so prejudiced in my thinking. Of course disabled people, in the vast majority of cases, enjoyed sex, and of course they got turned on and horny, just like everyone else. Anyone who thinks otherwise should be ashamed.

It was some weeks later that I got home from work and received a text from my wife. "Come to the bedroom." I assumed she wanted to show me some new clothing, or maybe some minor repair I needed to sort out. Whatever she wanted, I did as any husband should, and followed the instruction.

I walked through the door to find that I was half-right. She was, indeed, showing me some new clothing, but not what I expected. She lay on the bed in white lingerie - silky, matching bra and panties, trimmed with lace and stockings. As I entered the room, she smiled lasciviously and lifted her leg, adopting a model pose and allowing me to see that the panties were split in the centre, exposing her hairless slit - just the briefest flash, but enough to make me hard.

She raised herself on her elbow, causing her breasts to move demonstrating that the bra, too had splits up the centre of each cup. Julia's nipples were dark, deep reddy-brown against her skin, and very prominent. I loved them, and found spending time toying with them a massive pleasure - as did she.

To the side of the bed, on a tripod, a video camera was mounted. This was nothing new. We both liked recording our sexual activities, but it was usually me who pushed for it, rather than her.

"Stay there." Julia whispered. Her hand went to the slit in her bra and she began to tease a nipple, pinching and rolling it with her fingers, before lying back and paying similar attention to her other breast. "Mmmm ..." she moaned, arching her back and closing her eyes.

One hand abandoned the erect, brown nub, leaving it exposed through the silky fabric, contrasting magnificently with the white silk. The fingers wandered down, over her stomach, to the split in her knickers, finding her lips and parting them, showing me the pink, shining flesh within. She was very wet, and her fingers were instantly slick with her juices as she homed in on her clitoris.

I watched as she moaned and writhed on the bed, unsure whether to help her, undress or just stay where I was. I decided to watch, as that seemed to be what she wanted.

She abandoned her other nipple and reached across, pulling open the drawer in the bedside table and taking out a dildo. It was one of her larger ones, nine inches long and realistic looking. She spread her thighs, opened her pussy with her fingers and placed the tip of the dildo on her well-lubricated hole. Slowly, steadily, she pushed it in, until it was buried to the hilt inside her.

Slowly at first, she pulled out six inches of the artificial penis, then thrust it back in. Gradually, she built up speed, the large cock slid easily in and out, and her breathing became rapid and intense. Suddenly, she stiffened, emitting a long, low moan, and I watched as her juices dripped from her pussy, forming a wet patch on the bed.

Her movements slowed, eventually coming to a halt, as the muscles in her cunt alternately contracted and expanded and tremors wracked her body. Finally, she slipped the dildo out and gazed at me. Her eyes were wanton, sexually charged as she raised the rubber cock to her mouth and licked along and around the length, sampling her juices before sliding the head between her lips and pushing it as far in as possible.

She reached behind her and unhooked the bra, allowing her glorious tits to fall free. I adored them. Full, soft and fleshy, with dark nipples standing to attention. Then she slipped off her panties, pussy lips swollen and glistening as she let her legs fall apart.

"Your turn," she breathed, beckoning me towards her. I moved forwards, standing by the bed as she unfastened my trousers and slid down trousers and boxer shorts together, releasing my eight inch, rigid cock. I removed my shirt quickly, desperate to be as naked as she was.

She leaned toward me, tongue snaking out to lick the head of my penis as she grabbed my shaft with her hand, stroking gently. She licked down my shaft and around my balls before working back up and taking me into her mouth. Her tongue swirled as her head moved back and forth.

I decided that I should become more proactive. Grabbing the back of her head, I began to fuck her mouth, forcing myself further in, almost making her gag as thrust deeper and deeper. Suddenly, she pushed me away and lay back on the bed. It was obvious what she wanted. I moved forwards and lowered myself on to her, entering her smoothly and easily, establishing a comfortable rhythm, which made her moan gently as she became increasingly excited.

I pushed away with my arms, looking down on her bouncing tits, then placing an arm under each leg and lifting it over my shoulder. I fucked her hard, her thighs pressing on her breasts as I did so. Her moans became sighs, until with a sudden explosive cry, she achieved her second orgasm.

Quickly, I withdrew and flipped her over, raising her beautiful arse in the air and entering her from behind. Looking down, I could see her buttocks spread wide, and in the centre, the soft, brown skin leading to the black hole in the middle.

As I fucked her, her hand reached back, rubbing her clitoris, desperate for a third climax.

Usually, I would have cum in her pussy like this, but on this occasion, I decided I wanted more. Normally, I would have asked - after all, while we had often enjoyed anal in the past, it was not something we did every time. This time, I wanted to dispose of the niceties. I withdrew and placed the head of my engorged cock on her anus.

Had she not wanted it, she would have pulled away. However, she pushed back, encouraging me, wanting me to fuck her arse, and I was happy to oblige.

As I slid slowly in and out of her back passage, I spanked her - hard. Her bum cheeks turned red as I alternated from cheek to cheek. She gasped, moaned and pushed back on to me, encouraging me to slap her harder and fuck deeper.

Still I did not finish. I knew how I wanted to climax. So - I suspect - did she. I withdrew and rolled her over, kneeling next to her head, my cock over her face as she grabbed my shaft with her right hand. Rapidly and expertly, she wanked me. I had shown her how to do it, and she had learned well.

I came quickly, the first globs of creamy white cum landing on her nose and cheeks before I buried my cock in her mouth, allowing her to feel the ensuing spurts as they dwindled, allowing her to suck out any remaining drops.

Finally, I withdrew. She lay back, strings of cum shining across her face, and smiled at me. With a finger, she scraped the drying liquid into her mouth and gulped it down. Finally, she leaned across, grabbing a glass of water and taking a long drink before turning to me.

"Why does that stuff always dry my mouth up?"

I smiled, then voiced the question which had been on my mind since I walked through the door.

"So ... what brought that on?"

She snuggled up to me, breasts pressing into my chest, one leg over mine so I could feel her pussy juices on my leg. The room was heady with her scent.

"I need to ask you something."

This was intriguing. I had known women in the past who used sex as a way of cushioning difficult questions, or as bribery if they wanted something which they knew I was not keen on, but Julia had never done this. She had sex because she enjoyed it, and that was all. No ulterior motives.

She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at me. "It's Emma." I relaxed a little. If Emma wanted something, and I was going to have to pay, I didn't mind. I adored the girl, and even if it was something that I might dislike or not approve of, I was sure that the matter would be up for discussion.

Julia continued, distracting me slightly by gently resting a hand on my cock.

"The other day, I heard her crying in her room. Obviously, I went to see her and we started talking. It was the usual thing about sex and relationships - you know how it goes: she wants someone who loves her for herself, who does the caring bit without thinking and cherishes her - but the only interest she ever gets is from people who thinks she's a freak, or perverts into amputees - acrotomophilia, it's called.

"Apparently they discussed it at the support group and there's quite a few finding the same. Some are OK with it, but most want people to look beyond their disability.

"Anyway, we talked about the sex side of things - using toys etc, and we've agreed to get her some of her own, but that's not it. She's ok with that, just to cum, but she wants a man - not to fuck, necessarily, but as she said, just so she gets to see a real penis, not on a computer screen, but in the flesh, in front of her.

"I suggested an escort or male sex worker, but she said no - quite emphatically - she wants someone who does it for her, because they care about her and want her to see them."

She paused, gathering her thoughts, maybe feeling that she had not explained herself clearly. In truth, she hadn't, but we were close enough for me to read between the lines, and I knew Emma well enough to understand her thought processes as well.

Julia kissed me, and took a deep breath before carrying on.

"She needs someone who is just willing to let her see them, allow her to have a proper look at them and just take in the experience. It can't be any of the lads her age that she knows. She wants it to be someone close to her, who will keep it secret - for her sake, not any sense of embarrassment - and who she feels comfortable with.

"Anyway. Long story short. I suggested you."

My head spun, and I think my mouth must have dropped open, because Julia giggled. "Sorry," she smiled, "your face is a picture."

She allowed the idea to sink in.

"I think you'd be perfect. You're quite an exhibitionist, so no problem with her seeing you. I know you enjoy the whole CFNM thing. You adore her, I know that - and - I know you find her attractive. I've seen you looking at her tits, and we both know she's gorgeous. She just wants to see you naked. No big deal."

I stared at her until she smiled again, this time more uncertainly.

"How do you feel about it? After all, I'm your husband - and I know you don't mind other women seeing me - but your daughter? How would you feel about another man this much older with her?"

Julia sighed. "I've thought about it, and, honestly, I think someone older would be better for her anyway. More reliable, if you know what I mean. I know I can trust you not to take advantage of the situation - y'know - push her into things she doesn't want to do because she's desperate.

"Truth is, I can't think of anyone better. She loves you, you love her, but it takes things to a new level of trust - beyond standard stepfather/stepdaughter. I'm concerned about how it'd change things afterwards, but I think knowing both of you, it'd be fine. You're not going to freak about someone seeing you naked, and a kid who borrows her mum's dildos is hardly going to find it difficult."