Stepdaughter Redeems Herself

Someone will want to comment that this story does not involve incest. Actually, this category is incest AND taboo. What transpires in this story is technically not incest but it certainly is taboo.

*****

My name is Rick. Until recently, I was going through a rough time in my life. I got divorced about eight months ago. It was my second divorce.

I'm not very proud of being divorced twice but it's the facts and I won't lie about it. I got married the first time when I was 23. I had hooked up with a girl - Sandy - who was a few years older than me. She wasn't beauty pageant beautiful but she was a good looking girl with a nice body and a lot of IQ points. I was the smartest guy on the planet back then; if you weren't sure about that all you had to do was ask me. I thought I had scored a big victory by getting a ring on her finger but she got bored with me after a few years. Go figure!

I dated around for a while and then I met Lynn Chance. She had a cute face but she carried a few extra pounds around her middle. The weight made her feel a little bit insecure. My experience is that girls who feel insecure try to compensate by pleasing men in other ways. Sometimes, they are extraordinary cooks. Sometimes, they are excellent homemakers. Sometimes, they are excellent wage earners. And . . . sometimes . . . they are like wild animals when they get naked.

Lynn was an excellent wage earner and a good cook. In the early days of our marriage, when it came to the bedroom, she was mediocre. She was inhibited and she didn't have a strong sex drive, but she rarely said "no." She had been raised by Catholic parents who had taught her that practically anything that felt good was a sin.

Lynn claimed that, during her entire life, she had never masturbated. She had never owned a vibrator. She was willing to give oral sex but finishing in her mouth was not allowed because swallowing was something that only "sluts" did. She wanted to receive oral sex but doing it in the 69 position was off limits because that would involve the possibility of me seeing her ass and that was something that ladies would never allow.

Naturally, Lynn was an anal virgin and no one had ever even seen her ass. Of course, no one had ever touched her ass, and she had never experienced a double penetration with a dick and a vibrator. Honestly, I wasn't even sure that she HAD an ass, but she assured me that she did.

When we were in bed, she needed a tremendous amount of foreplay and stimulation before she would cum. At one point, I started using a vibrator that I had bought to try to put some spark in our bedroom activities. I would lie between her legs and sometimes use my tongue in addition to the vibrator. I would start getting cramps from staying in one position for too long. I was curious so I started timing it. It always took at least 15 minutes of direct clitoral stimulation with a vibrator before she had an orgasm; on some occasions, it took as much as 25-30 minutes.

After a few months, I discovered all the secrets that would get Lynn to have orgasms quicker. Her inhibitions relaxed when she had alcohol in her, of course. We also had a hot tub and spending time in there, naked, on Friday nights made Lynn more relaxed than anything else. Over the course of a few months, we advanced from fondling her nipples to fingering her pussy to sliding my finger in her butt crack. Sometimes, she would panic and pull my hand away when my finger grazed the crinkle of her little asshole, but sometimes . . . if she had let her guard down, she would moan.

When we got in bed, I would use the vibrator on her clit and, eventually, she would cum. Then she would roll over onto her stomach. I would kiss her shoulders. I would use my fingertips to lightly graze all over her body. I would kiss the small of her back. I would lick on her inner thighs.

Then, I would spread her legs apart enough that I could lower my head and lick on her pussy lips. By this time, she would have started moaning and that signified a major accomplishment. After she had started moaning, I would get bold and run my tongue into her butt crack. When she continued moaning, I would use my fingers to pull apart her cheeks and I would get aroused by the sight of her cute little pink pucker as I lavished it with gentle and seductive licks.

There were a few unwritten rules about her ass. First, it was something that we could not openly discuss. She would never openly admit that she wanted me to play with her ass, but if she was a bit tipsy and I simply did things without asking . . . she would usually moan and whimper as if she enjoyed anal attention. Second, she could not accept the idea that she might actually like anal sex, because, for many years, she had said that this was something that only "sluts" do.

Licking on her little pucker was okay, but if I tried to get a finger near her ass, she would pull my hand away. I think she suspected that I intended to stick my finger in her ass . . . and she was right. I wasn't obsessed with tonguing her asshole. I was obsessed with the idea of having anal sex with the ice queen and everything that I did was a slow and steady seduction, a plan designed to erode her anal inhibitions. I truly believed that, if we could break through her inhibitions about anal sex, she would quickly begin to lose her other inhibitions.

But there was one time, when she had drank more than usual, that she seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep while I was engaged in my usual Friday night analingus. Before you tell me that I shouldn't have sex with a sleeping woman, I should inform you that she had previously told me to keep going if she drifted off and she would probably wake up at some point.

Anyway . . . I had a bottle of KY by the bed and I quickly applied some to my finger and ran it down into her anal cleft. When my fingertip reached her little rosebud, I stopped. I started applying very gentle pressure and I found no resistance: none from her sphincter and none from her usually vigilant don't-do-that-because-I'm-not-a-slut-meter. I started pushing my fingertip into the forbidden zone, expecting some chastisement or rebuke when the sensations brought her back into a wakeful state, but it didn't happen.

I continued pushing my finger inside her until it was buried and then I began thrusting it in and out of her cute little behind. At one point, it felt like she was thrusting her ass back to increase the sensations and I know I heard some subdued moans, but it was as if she was having a dream about anal sex instead of consciously responding to the sensations in her body.

After a few minutes of thrusting my finger in and out of her behind, I pulled it out, intending to replace my finger with my dick. Unfortunately, as soon as I had removed my finger, Lynn rolled over and motioned for me to get on top and enter her in the missionary position. Apparently, she had been awake through the experience.

Most Friday nights, after I had bathed her anus with my tongue, I would straddle her ass, apply a generous amount of KY to my dick, pull her ass cheeks apart, place the tip of my dick on her asshole, and then lean forward as I attempted to thrust into her virgin ass. Every time, my efforts were met by an immediate clenching of her cheeks which would have the effect of pushing my dick down towards her pussy. If I slipped into her pussy, I usually went with the flow and started fucking her cunt until I filled it with my cum. Sometimes, I would pull out and take another stab at anal penetration, only to feel her cheeks again tightening their protection over the forbidden entrance. In the four years that we were married, not once did I actually get my dick inside her ass. Sometimes, I would slide my dick up and down her butt crack and I would get especially aroused when I looked down and saw the tip of my man meat touching her pink star. With the amount of KY that I usually applied, it felt really good and sometimes I would cum in her ass crack, then I would reach down and smear some of my cum around her pucker.

Ultimately, Leah - one of her adult children - interfered, telling Lynn that she should divorce me. Lynn made the tragic mistake of not telling her daughter to go fuck herself. Instead, Lynn told me that she wanted a divorce. The divorce process lasted six months before I moved out of the home, because Lynn kept changing her mind, but eventually I moved into an apartment about two miles from her home. After we separated, the divorce process speeded up and it was final two months later.

* * *

I started doing some online dating and didn't immediately meet anyone who really seemed like an attractive companion for a long term relationship. I met a few women who might have been fun to fuck but, in my age range, most women aren't just looking for fun in bed. As soon as you fuck them, they think you are going to get married, so I didn't pursue any of them for the sake of a roll in the hay.

* * *

One Friday afternoon, about 5 months after the divorce, I left work and stopped at the grocery store to pick up a steak and some asparagus for dinner. I had started a low carb diet to drop a few pounds and it was working quite well. I had already lost 15 pounds and had about 10 more pounds before I would be back at my ideal weight.

Anyway, I was in the grocery store and, of course, I always go down all the aisles because I almost always remember something else that I need, like butter or paper towels or whatever. As I turned the corner and headed down the household cleaners aisle, I saw Lynn approaching from the opposite direction. She was looking at something on the shelf and didn't see me until I was close enough to speak to her.

"Hey, stranger," I said rather lamely. What do you say to your ex the first time you see them after the divorce?

"Oh, uh, hi," she replied with obvious discomfort. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Well, my apartment isn't that far away and I've shopped at this grocery store for 5 years, so I still shop here. Actually, I'm surprised that it took 5 months for us to run into each other here."

"So . . . how are you doing?" she asked.

"Still picking up the pieces but doing pretty well. How about you? What's new in your life?"

"Well, Leah moved out last month. She's renting a place with an option to purchase and pretty excited about being in her own place." Leah – as you may recall - is the sack of shit daughter who encouraged her mother to divorce me so she could continue to live at home sucking off of momma's endless tit.

"So you've got the empty nest now! How are you adjusting to that?" I inquired.

"She was gone a lot even when she lived with me so it hasn't been too difficult to get used to it," she explained. "The toughest part is cooking meals. It's hard to get motivated to cook for just myself."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I usually broil a steak and some asparagus in a disposable foil pan. It's quick and easy and there's no clean up. It's kind of like we used to do on Friday nights," I responded.

Lynn and I had a custom of calling Friday night "steak night." We would broil some steaks and asparagus, just as I had continued to do, and after dinner we would have a Margarita or two and then get in the hot tub. It was a routine but I was okay with having a routine and it almost always culminated in having sex.

Lynn smiled with one of those reminiscent smiles. "Yeah, there are some things that I miss. It wasn't all bad, you know."

"Hey, I never said it was all bad," I said in my defense. "I miss Friday nights together – dinner, Margaritas, hot tub, et cetera . . .." I smiled. She knew what I meant when I said "et cetera."

"You know, if we could have had just the Friday nights and . . . maybe I should have . . . who knows?" She obviously was reflecting on her course of conduct in breaking up our marriage.

"Lynn, I can get another steak if you'd like to come to my apartment for dinner tonight. You've never seen it and . . . I'm really not suggesting anything more than dinner."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea and, anyway, I'm babysitting for Brian and Jen tonight." Brian and Jen are her son and daughter-in-law and they have two little girls who are a handful to watch. "I don't know, but . . . not tonight, anyway."

"Okay, well . . . I'm sorry the answer's 'no,' but I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But, since you didn't just say 'no,' I'll probably ask you again sometime else . . . and I hope that the next time I ask, the answer is 'yes.'"

"Okay, well, I gotta get going. Brian and Jen will be at the house in about 20 minutes, so . . . it was good seeing you."

"It was good seeing you, too," I replied. I leaned over to her and gave her a friendly hug. "Hope to see you again soon." I returned to my cart and pushed it down the aisle to continue my shopping.

* * *

I thought about that encounter many times over the next few days. I thought that Lynn probably had a conflict about wanting to see me. Part of her would desperately like to spend time with me and the other part told her that it was wrong and she would feel guilty if she did it. I decided to try again and to make the next invitation safer (from her perspective.)

About a week later, I called Lynn in the late afternoon. She was still at work.

"Hey," I began simply, as if me calling her was a routine occurrence. "I'm going to Tijuana Flats for dinner tonight. That's on your way home. Would you like to stop and join me? And this is NOT a date; you can pay for your own damned dinner!"

"Uhh . . .," she paused as if looking for the right words to say.

"Lynn; don't make it complicated. It's okay to do this. You're an adult. Nobody else gets to make your decisions. I think you want to do this so just say 'yes.' Or, if you can't say anything, just show up there at 6:00, okay? I hope you'll be there." I ended the conversation before she had a chance to say 'no.'

* * *

I arrived at Tijuana Flats a few minutes early, got a table, and waited. I was starting to think about giving up on her when she was not there at 6:10, but then I saw her car pulling into the parking lot.

"Sorry, but I got held up with a phone call from the boss right at closing time," she explained.

"That's fine, you're here, I'm glad. Let's order some dinner."

We ordered dinner and we talked. She got me caught up on all of the happenings in her life and I told her what was new in my life. She asked whether I had started dating and I told her that I had been on 5 or 6 first dates but none of them had led to a second date. She told me that she had not even thought about dating.

There were a few times when I looked up and I thought I saw a wistful look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing and perhaps regretting the divorce. It felt good to think that she had some regrets.

"So, can we do this again sometime soon?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," she answered.

"Do you want to come to my apartment for dinner?" I inquired.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said.

"Why?" I asked with a smile. "You don't trust yourself to keep your hands off of me? Because . . . you don't have to worry about me trying anything. That's not gonna happen! I don't care if you come over there, get me drunk, rip off my clothes, and beg me to fuck you! It ain't gonna happen!" Lynn knew - sort of – that I was joking and just trying to put her at ease.

"Well, you really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?" she teasingly replied.

"Sometimes," I answered. "So . . . you want to come over to my apartment for steaks next Friday night? Be there at 6:00 and maybe I'll even fix a Margarita for you . . . but only one, because you've got to drive home after dinner."

"Okay, you win!" she conceded, ending the discussion of that issue. "Anything you want me to bring?"

"Just a smile, dear, just a smile!" I said. We stood, I gave her a platonic hug, walked her to her car, and waved goodbye.

* * *

The following Friday, I had dinner planned. I tried to recreate the dinners that we typically had on Friday night when we were married, hoping to use that as a spark to revitalize some old feelings. I had steaks, I had asparagus, I had tequila and Margarita mix. Of course, in my apartment I did not have a hot tub, so I could not recreate Friday nights precisely, but I also did not intend to try to have sex with Lynn. Not tonight.

She knocked on the door within a minute of 6:00. When I opened the door, I immediately noticed that Lynn was dressed nicer than I would expect her to be dressed if she was coming directly to my apartment from her office. Maybe she had some expectations . . ..

I invited her in and gave her the 60 second grand tour, ending with my bedroom. I felt a bit more tension when she saw the bed where I slept. Maybe she was wondering whether I had already had sex with someone else, and maybe she was wondering what it would be like to be naked with me in that bed; who knows?

We returned to the living room, I tuned on some jazz, and started the steaks and asparagus. Before long, we were talking as smooth as the jazz, as easily as we had talked when we were married and doing well. I fixed us both a Margarita and then the dinner was ready. We sat and ate, our conversation continued, and Lynn's Margarita disappeared as if by magic. She asked for another and I obliged but reminded her that she needed to drive home later. I wondered if she was trying to get a little tipsy to find some liquid courage for something else.

After dinner, we returned to the living room, sat on the sofa, and continued talking about her co-workers, politics, her sister, her children, my mother, my job, and an endless stream of other topics.

At some point during the conversation, I reached over and took her hand, holding it in mine. She seemed very comfortable with that and, a few minutes later, I put my arm over her shoulder. We were sitting close enough that our bodies were touching and it felt as if we were courting again.

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already 9:00. Three hours had flown by so quickly. "Lynn," I said quietly as I bent down to put my face close to hers, "I'm having a really good time but . . . you do need to go home." The look on her face suggested that maybe she thought I was bending down to kiss her and was surprised that, instead, I was sending her away.

"Okay," she managed to reply with a look of injured vulnerability. "Will you walk me to my car?" she asked.

"Of course I will," I replied. "Have I ever forgotten to be a gentleman?"

When we got to her car, we stopped and I put my arms around her waist. I gave her a friendly hug and then pulled my face away from her while keeping our bodies together. I looked into her eyes and I saw the look of desire. I made a slight motion as if I was moving forward to kiss her and I saw her preparing to be kissed.

I continue in motion until our lips met. Initially, it was a chaste kiss like two innocent kids who have never kissed. Then I felt her tongue on my lips and I opened my lips, allowing her tongue into my mouth. The kiss quickly became passionate and I held her tightly in my arms.

Lynn moved to the side so that she could place one foot between my feet, bringing out pelvises even closer together. By this time, I had an erection and I felt her body against my hardness. If I had to guess, I would guess that she was wet and her nipples were hard.

"Why are you sending me away? Don't you want me?" she asked as if she didn't understand what was happening.

"Of course I want you," I replied. "I never stopped wanting you. I just don't want to be hurt . . . again."

"Well, do you want to see me again?" she asked, obviously needing some reassurance.

"Of course I do! I really had a good time tonight, but what is Leah gonna say when she hears that you had dinner with me?"