Master of the House

All characters engaging in sexual activities are eighteen years or older.

THE GAMBLER

Steven needed a place to hide, preferably at least for a few days, or maybe even longer. He owed his loan shark a little too much money, and Renard had grown impatient. And when Renard grew impatient, there was going to be hell, as well as much more money, to pay.

Whispers had started to circulate around the small town that Steven owed big, and almost immediately every source of possible credit had dried up. Not only was he unable to borrow the money to pay Renard, but he was suddenly also without the means to steal it. His gambling habit had compromised his ability to perform his job, so much so that he was lucky not to have been fired. Instead, he had been demoted and told that he was on his last chance. His employer even made him sign a document to that effect.

As a consequence, Steven no longer had access to any of his accounting firm's funds. He could not embezzle them. As for robbing one of the local establishments, like a bank or a gas station, Steven instinctively knew that was simply beyond his capabilities.

Steven figured that his only out was to hit on a long shot at the local racetrack. It was admittedly a desperate last attempt. Steven preferred to bet on football and basketball games; he knew nothing about the sport of kings.

So on a lazy, overcast Tuesday afternoon, with a hint of the first chill of fall, Steven made an excuse at work, and soon found himself sidling through the cavernous front gates of the track and into its deep seedy interior. He located the betting window and irrationally compelled himself to place the last of his remaining funds on the horse with the longest odds and biggest payoff. Then, he occupied a lonely position along the front rail thirty feet from the starting gate to watch the race along with all the other bums in attendance.

His many fears lumped themselves together into a single, choking ball at the base of his throat as the starter pistol cracked and the horses thundered out of the gate. He thrilled seeing his horse get out to a quick start on the outside rail. Was his luck returning? Indeed, it did appear so, as his nag led the entire pack for the first few furlongs. He had hope for the first time in days.

As the horses approached, Steven noticed the jockey's black and blue livery, and then mud splattering up from the horse's heels. The horse was still riding wide on the outside rail and large deposits of mud showered down on Steven. There was a reason Steven was standing alone on the rail. The regulars had known better than to get that close to a wet track, and the very few toffs who had not bet the race had noticed and were chuckling at him in the stands.

As Steven wiped the mud from his face, he saw that his horse had, in the meantime, fallen irretrievably behind and was falling further behind still. This horse could never win a race that lasted more than ten seconds. He could not outrun the glue factory.

Steven felt the hope die inside him. Even though an amateur, he did not need to see any more of the race. He knew he had lost. He turned to go and looked up into the stands where the vocal bettors were cheering on their picks.

The fear that had lumped itself in his throat earlier was nothing compared to the sensation he felt now. His whole body felt a tidal wave of shock as he recognized a man dressed all in black. It was Mort, Renard's second in command and "muscle," standing tall up in the stands, staring at his winning horse through a pair of binoculars.

Mort had made it clear on more than one occasion that he harbored a visceral dislike of Steven and would like nothing more than to lay into Steven's ass really hard. The prospect of breaking Steven's head, his neck, his back, or any one of the other principal bones in Steven's body would give Mort the greatest pleasure. Steven could sense that Mort got an erection just thinking about it.

And now that Steven owed Renard too much money and with no real prospect of repayment, Mort was going to get his way. He had already probably been out looking for him around town. Steven thanked the Lord that Mort's attention was now directed momentarily elsewhere and prayed that it would remain so for the next few minutes, which would allow a terrified Steven time to slink away and escape.

Miraculously, Steven found a side exit that led directly into the parking lot. Steven got behind the wheel of his car and shot out of the parking lot, not knowing where he was going to go.

As Steven drove aimlessly for a little while, his mind raced to come up with his next move. Running out of town was impossible. Steven had very little gas in the car and even less money in his pocket. He would have to find someplace to hide. It was then that he suddenly realized that he was not too far from Denise's apartment complex. Yes, maybe his luck was returning a little bit after all. Denise would certainly help him.

A FRIEND IN NEED

Denise exploded in girlish laughter at the pathetic mud-splattered figure standing outside on her apartment doorstep. Nevertheless, the laughing girl, surprised by the uninvited guest, while wearing her usual household outfit of tight shorts and a cut-off t-shirt, invited in a grateful Steven.

"What happened to you?" she asked mirthfully.

"I had a bad day, and I need a place to clean up." Steven almost pouted in his self-pity.

"Why don't you not go back to your house?" the pretty, nineteen-year old, dark eyed girl asked.

"My wife kicked me out this morning," Steven lied.

"Oh, did she?" Denise's voice registered surprise, mock commiseration, and a small hint of delight.

Denise had attended high school with Steven's daughter, Jennifer, and the two girls had graduated just a few months prior. While Jennifer continued to live with Steven and his wife, Denise had decided to strike out on her own, promptly moving out of her parent's home, if the word 'home' could be properly applied to what she eagerly and dramatically portrayed as a hellhole of dysfunction, complete with an abusive father and a willfully blind mother acting out their parts to perfection.

Denise's descriptions of her home life had always been a little too hyperbolic and maybe even too rehearsed for Steven's tastes. Steven and his wife could not help but notice how their daughter's friend had such an active imagination and an unsettling penchant for telling little lies, not malicious ones, but lies nonetheless.

Nevertheless, Steven and his wife accepted her as their daughter's friend and as a frequent visitor to their home. Over the years, she became a regular guest at dinner, then a constant overnight guest, and finally a fully-fledged appanage to the family. Some even mistook her for a second daughter.

During those years, Steven could not help notice not only the formation of her character, but also her developing body as well. She grew up tall with high cheekbones and beautifully shaped, soft eyes. Her legs were long and her breasts were small, but high. She had noticed the changes in her body as well.

In her eighteenth year she started coquettishly flirting with Steven. Her inappropriate attention embarrassed him and made him awkwardly uncomfortable. His wife noticed their interactions. She would stare at him in anger, never at Denise, apparently because she held him accountable for not putting the young girl in her place, or maybe because by not doing so, she suspected he was actually recruiting Denise for a future adulterous liaison.

For some reason unknown to Steven, his daughter Jennifer and Denise had some sort of falling out in their senior year, and were not speaking to each other. Yet, when Steven happened to encounter Denise out and about in the small town, he felt himself above such childish concerns and loyalty, and was friendly to the young woman anyway. She quickly resumed flirting with him once again. This time he reciprocated fully. They had exchanged numbers, and were soon texting and talking to each other.

Now, Steven was standing before her, secretly hoping that she would reciprocate his earlier kindness and provide him with shelter until he could think of a solution to his problem.

She stopped laughing. He face was suddenly filled with sympathy. "Do you want a shower?"

"Yes."

She led the way to the bathroom, hips swinging from side to side. Steven followed their motion. Steven stared at her exposed legs as she leaned in to turn on the water for him. The skin on her inner thighs looked to be softer than butter, and promised to continue on likewise, upwards to a wet, pink, silky center. She was the very definition of fresh pussy.

She turned around, walked out, and returned with a huge fluffy towel. She lingered after handing it to him, almost as if she wanted stay and help him undress and wash himself. Then she cast her eyes diffidently downwards and retreated from the room. Steven undressed and showered with an erection. He resisted pulling on it.

Steven did not hear her when she came back into the room to remove his clothes. Taking a deep breath, he dried off, and wrapped the towel around himself.

He was feeling hope returning into his body. As he stepped from the humidity of the bathroom into the cool air of the hallway, he smelled food sizzling in a skillet.

Denise turned her head, smiling towards him as he entered the kitchen. "I thought you might be hungry." Denise's eyes broke contact with his, traveling downward over his chest to rest briefly upon the center of the towel wrapped around his waist before fleeing away.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked as gently as he could, not wanting to betray any anxiety or implied criticism in his voice.

"Don't worry. I have them. Your wallet and keys are on the side table. I took your clothes down to the washer in the building. I will put them in the dryer after dinner. They will be safe."

Steven sat down on a chair at the counter top and watched her finish cooking the dinner. His lower half was obscured by an intervening cabinet, so that when she glanced over she would no doubt receive the impression that he was completely naked. Denise again averted her fawn-like eyes downward, suddenly shy, cognizant of his wolfish stare.

When she looked back up, he spoke. "You certainly have grown up."

She blushed at his words and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. "Do you really think so?"

Steven made a grand show of surveying the small room, while simultaneously saying, "It looks like you really have everything figured out. This is a nice place. You have done well for yourself. I know some people much older than you who have not even begun to get it together. You're a real adult."

Steven omitted to mention that he himself would be placed firmly into the second classification of the non-adults. It did not matter. She was visibly enthused at the compliment, girlishly flattered.

She announced that dinner was ready, which Steven found to be not half bad. She refused his offer to help wash the dishes, insisting that he sit on the couch and relax. She joined him after a few minutes, sitting very close to him, eager to keep playing grown up.

She curled her legs up underneath her ass in the way that only a woman can. Her torso twisted, orienting her tits towards him. Her arm rested languidly on the back of the couch. Steven responded, turning himself towards her.

She smiled once again shyly, and a lock of her hair fell to the side of her face. Steven reached out and brushed it back for her. His fingertips lingered behind her ear, caressing the tender skin behind. "I think that you should wear your hair back so everyone can see your face. You are very pretty, you know."

Her face reddened completely.

"I always knew you would turn out to be someone special. And here you are," Steven said softly. His fingers slipped behind to the nape of her neck and his thumb gently caressed her earlobe. He leaned forward. She tilted her head. He closed in. He kissed a pair of very soft and moist lips, which immediately parted. She smelled like a dark red strawberry, which matched the color of her tongue that darted about vigorously between their mouths.

Steven's resulting erection was easily hidden in the folds of his towel.

Steven's left hand found its way up and under the hem of her cut off t-shirt. His fingers squeezed into her soft, yet firmly molded flesh. His thumb and forefinger pinched with firm pressure her nineteen-year old nipple.

Steven felt her sharply take in a deep breath as he tugged her nipple slightly out away from her body. Then her tongue began dancing frenetically inside his mouth. She pulled herself closer to him, rising almost to her knees, pressing hard into his body, threatening to topple over on top of him.

Meanwhile, her right hand feverishly searched to insert itself underneath his towel. At first, the towel was banded around him too tightly. It would not yield. A frustrated grunt escaped her mouth, as she began tugging violently on the cloth to move it out of the way.

By way of helping, Steven managed to raise his hips slightly off the couch, giving her the purchase she needed. Her hand slipped under the terry cloth and found his erection, immediately prizing it in an almost painfully tight grip.

She broke off her kiss, and Steven could see her eyes dilate wildly with pleasure as she held his dick in her hand for the first time. A small triumphant cry emanated from her smiling mouth. It was evident that she had fantasized about being with him multiple times. And now, having him finally to herself, with no one to interfere, she was going to fuck every last drop of cum out of him.

And he was going to let her.

She rose off the couch, keeping Steven's dick in her hand. She tugged it determinedly, beckoning him to rise.

"Come'on," she half pleaded and half shouted in her excitement.

As he stood up, Steven's towel fell to the floor and remained behind as he allowed the young vixen to pull him by his dick down the hallway to her bedroom, her lovely ass swaying from side to side in anticipation of heretofore forbidden carnal delights.

Her hand slipped away briefly as she wheeled around towards him and quickly shed her clothes. Her cut off t-shirt seemingly leapt over her head and across the room, and her shorts dropped themselves to the floor of their own volition. She was as naked as the day she was born, and she looked far more magnificent than Steven ever allowed himself to imagine.

She left Steven no time to languidly take in or study her form, instead stepping forward back towards him, her hand pouncing on his dick in a tight grip and a incessant upward and downward motion.

As her tongue re-entered his mouth in a passionate kiss, Steven permitted his first two fingers of his right hand to reach down and part her pussy lips in a upward stroke. He never felt a wetter pussy in his whole life. His fingers almost sunk fully into her of their own accord, almost as if her pussy was pulling him into her with its own specific gravity.

Steven held his fingers up, covered in a thick and heavy coating of her natural lubrication. She broke off her kiss and immediately took his fingers into her own mouth, suctioning and sucking them clean, tasting her own flavor. Then she plunged her tongue back into his throat sharing her exquisite taste.

"I always wanted you to be my real dad," she panted in a confessional whisper. "To have you love me like your real daughter. To show you how a daughter should love her daddy. Everything about him. How she should give all of herself to satisfy every one of his needs. Without question. The first man in her life; the best man in her life."

She sunk down to her knees onto the cheap standard carpeting. Steven could feel the heat of her breath on his dick as she asked, "Do you love me daddy?"

"I do baby," Steven was surprised to hear the words come so smoothly out of his mouth, reflexively fulfilling her emotional need.

Her tongue quickly flicked a drop of precum off the tip of his dick in satisfaction with his answer.

She looked directly into his eyes as his dick waved in front of her face. "How can I make you feel better after your long and hard day, daddy?"

Steven took a deep breath. They both knew what each of them wanted. She had quickly shed her shyness and had embraced her own deep desires. Steven contemplated that there would be no harm in indulging her kink. It was not as if she was his real daughter. It was not real incest.

"Suck my dick, baby girl. Suck your daddy's dick!"

Pronouncing these words had an unanticipated effect on Steven, they signified more than mere playacting in the moment, but rather served as an incantation that coalesced a corporate existence out of the dark shadows of an inchoate and hidden desire.

For a fleeting moment, a wicked little question entered his head - what would feel like if this was his real daughter before him, on her knees, worshiping his dick.

Even if it was real incest, Steven even more wickedly thought, why should he not fuck anyone he desired, whether she was an impostor or his real daughter. His dick deserved the best.

Steven felt his whole body swell with desire, as his ersatz daughter held his dick at its base. He felt his chest tighten and his skin begin to tingle as she took him into her warm and wet mouth.

She shut her doe-like eyes as she took in his staff. She let out a grunt of satisfaction when Steven placed his hand on the back of her head, forcibly pressing her nose into his pubic hair, taking command, using her to fulfill his needs, like any real father would.

An over-excited Steven immediately flooded her mouth with a deluge of thick and pasty cum.

"Swallow it!, Swallow all of it!!" he hissed between clenched teeth. "That's a good girl," he cooed in turn as she managed to choke down his glutinous load.

Cooling down from his carnal heat, Steven felt slightly embarrassed he had prematurely ejaculated into Denise's mouth. But she did not say anything about it, and neither did he.

Instead, she kept working on his dick like a good girl, soon returning it to hardness. She smiled wickedly at the result, coaxing a middle age man into a second erection as quickly as if he was one of her healthy eighteen year old teenage lovers.

She stood up and seated herself on the edge of her bed and spread her legs wide.

Steven stared at her thin pussy lips, glistening in her excitement. He could smell her sex.

Any civilized man would have dropped to his knees and orally pleased her for at least an hour. But Steven was not civilized. He was a sexual beast. He could only think about mounting the girl so many had confused as his second daughter and impregnating her.

In a flash, he was upon her, plunging his entire modest length into her vast wetness with one stroke, rather than introducing his cock into her little by little so that she could savor the feeling and pleasure of a new cock for the first time.

Steven pressed his entire body weight directly upon hers as he rutted wildly without technique into her soupy cunt. Her fluids were white hot, flowing over and coating his dick with each stroke. Her body seemingly producing an endless supply in her desire to please her "daddy."

If Steven had only arched his back, he would have been pressing down perfectly upon her clit. She would have exploded. And if he could have lasted for a mere ten minutes, the already primed and predisposed young lady would have glimpsed the face of God before she passed out.

Instead, he kept see-sawing into her for less than two minutes - precisely one hundred and six seconds for the record - until he released a small dribble of cum.

Steven collapsed upon her in a sweaty and exhausted heap, clearly finished for the night.

He could not see the annoyed and frustrated look upon her face. He did not fathom how disappointed she was that this longed for sexual experience had lasted for a shorter duration than when she took Jimmy Schwartz's virginity. Moreover, the virgin had at least tried.