Tastes Like Candy Ch. 01

Again, it would be easy to psychoanalyze and say why that was. I never had a dad. I always wanted one. I always wanted a strong, father-like man in my life. Therefore, I was into older men. I got that. I understand. It doesn't change matters. And when Mom saw me flirting with older men, saw me flirting with her pig boyfriends, just for sport, really, she knew I had to go so her men would keep paying attention to her and not me. So I went. And in exchange, Mom told me who my Dad was.

I came here with the best intentions. Really. All the emotions I felt were totally genuine. I cried when I saw my Dad for the first time. I felt that instant bond between him and me. I knew he was my father before any test proved it. I wanted to be a good daughter. I wanted to be a good girl. I wanted my dad and his wife to think the best of me. I did. But some things are out of your control. Some things are the fault of your genetics. Your nature. Some things happen just because your mother is a huge slut, and the slut gene was clearly a dominant one.

It wasn't my fault I was sexually attracted to my father.

It wasn't my fault that when I saw my biological father for the first time, my pussy got sopping wet. It wasn't my fault that my father was so-fucking-god-damn hot. It wasn't my fault the slight gray in his hair sent a violent quiver deep through me. Who am I to deny the obvious sexual chemistry we shared?

I loved older men! Much older than me, to the point where it was indecent. A lot of my high school friends loved fucking college boys. No, I would much rather bang those college boys' fathers. The ones with those beefy Daddy dicks. The ones that knew how to fuck a girl right. The ones that would cheat on their wives to get at my young, tight pussy. The ones that would want you to call them Daddy when they fucked you. The ones who had those big, full balls that were just so much fun to run your young lips around. The ones who would give you more than a two minute fuck session like most younger guys did. The ones who could make you cum again and again in a marathon fuck session, with such pent up sexual frustration from the lack of sex they got from their old, bland, ugly wives. The ones like my father.

He was so fucking hot! He was just my type. Older, but really fit. Those strong, firm arms. Those rough, manly hands. He was really tall, really tan, and so charming. He could charm the pants off any girl. He was the type of guy who was built to have a daughter. He is the type to totally make any daughter a daddy's girl. A little princess. He was destined to have a young, hot daughter. And I was meant to have a handsome, studly father. He would just love me.

If he put the moves on me I would totally let him fuck me. I knew how wrong it was but it only made my pussy wetter. My father was so hot. I would let him have me in any way he wanted. Any hole he wanted. Maybe it was because I didn't have a father most of my life. But that didn't matter when all I wanted was my father deep inside me. He was totally into young girls. I could tell. We both felt that bond when we first met. He saw it as a bond between a father and daughter. But I knew the truth. I knew that bond was something more. That our bond was not just one of family. Our bond was more... sexual. There was an attraction there, a bond of sexual compatibility that he probably wasn't ready to admit to. But I would. I wanted to fuck him as soon as I laid eyes on him. And deep down, he wanted to fuck me too, I could tell. And I could also tell his wife did not keep him satisfied. He didn't really want a loose, dusty old lady cunt anyway. He really wanted a nice, tight young pussy to stretch with his fat mature dick. Deep down, that is what all men like him wanted.

All these thoughts of daddy/daughter fucking was really getting me hot. I didn't know if I could wait for him to make the moves on me. I mean, he totally would... eventually, but my hot cunt couldn't wait that long. I mean, there is that whole taboo of incest that would slow him down. And that didn't bother me. It probably should, but as soon as I realized how fuckable my new daddy was, the thought really didn't really bother me. I hadn't thought about it before, but now it was the only thing I was thinking about. Like I said, I am a total slut. I am down for just about anything, apparently even incest, especially with a daddy as hot as he was. But he wasn't down for incest... yet. Eventually, my gorgeous face and huge tits would overwhelm him. Sure, after a few years of me parading my huge tits around him, he would eventually want to give them a healthy squeeze. All concerns of incest would eventually be forgotten. But, like I said, I could not wait that long. My pussy needed to get fucked, like, right now!

I would have to make him mine. It was the only choice. I would have to be aggressive, grab that fat daddy dick and make it mine. It wouldn't be that simple, obviously. I wish it was. But I could do it. I had never failed to get any man I wanted. And my hot father was now in my crosshairs.

One thing I would never need is a mother. I had enough of mothers in my life. No more Regina, and sorry to say, no more Linda. I saw nothing there I needed. Plus, I think she knew that I was bad news. Not like Daddy. He already thought the world of me. But my new mommy didn't, so she would have to go. Daddy didn't need her. He didn't need an old wife in his life. He needed a daughter. A tight young daughter. He would soon realize that too.

My cunt was absolutely dripping. I lied back on the bed, slipped off my thong, let my fingers slide down, and thought about my daddy for a little bit. Think about what I had in store for him. Thoughts of how I would tease him, show off my girlish charms, until he couldn't resist.

The thought made girl-cum squirt from my cunt.

***********

(Marcus)

About two weeks had passed and we had finally reached the point where things settled into a groove. It stopped being weird that we now had a young girl in the house. The newness was starting to disappear, and it stopped feeling like she was a guest in our home. It was as if she belonged here now.

I was happy to have Brandy around. She brought a different energy to our house. Before, at times things could get a bit routine, but having Brandy around the house livened things up. We were suddenly going to new stores, new restaurants, places we never went to before. Places more hip. I would admit I did not understand the mind of a teenage girl. I didn't have many come through the wood shop, and none of them were like Brandy.

She was definitely a girly-girl. She liked those girly pop songs. She loved dressing up, buying clothes, and texting on her phone. Her room was already distinctly hers, her stuff strewn about disobediently, her sheets cute and girly, and the room distinctly smelling like the perfume she liked to wear, a scent which quickly pervaded the entire house.

But there were awkward moments. Including the time when all three of us were in the kitchen. Brandy had just padded in. She was wearing a white tank top, with a light green zip up pull-over. She had a matching pair of thin green sweats, with the word "Bootylicious" on her backside. She took a bottled water from the fridge and turn to face us.

"For the last time, Linda, I will never build you a wooden scooter." I told her with a laugh, her laughing alongside me. It was a running joke between us. She always wanted me to build fun, stupid stuff, but I much preferred making more practical things.

"All I'm saying is if you build it, I can paint it up, make it look all spiffy. We'll be the talk of the neighborhood. Everyone will be so jealous." she said, dragging the last word out, causing me to laugh.

"Yeah, I bet." I said. I turned to Brandy. "What's up?" I asked.

"Hey, I was, like, wondering if, you know, if it's not a sore subject, uh... why didn't you guys ever have kids?" Brandy asked. I looked at Linda, silently asking how she wanted to answer this. For awhile this was a subject that would make her cry at the drop of a hat. But now, we had both accepted it.

"It's not that we didn't want to. It was that we couldn't." Linda said. I watched as Brandy processed this. I watched her look at both of us, trying to figure out which of us was the problem, then realizing who it was by the simple virtue that I had proven that I could procreate due to her own existence. I watched Brandy realize that Linda could not bear children.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." Brandy said, slowly escaping the room and escaping the awkward situation she created. I looked at my wife and she shrugged knowing Brandy meant no harm, but it did bring back those old feelings of hers. I walked over to her and put my arm around her, pulling her close, and kissing her on the forehead. She smiled sadly at me.

***********

(Linda)

As the days passed, I just didn't find myself warming to Brandy. Something seemed... off... about her. It wasn't anything obvious. And maybe she didn't even know she was doing it. But sometimes, the thing is, she did just seemed... insidious. As if she was secretly trying to acknowledged the differences between us. It was little things, things that on their own might come across as misunderstandings, but put all together, made me think it was part of some sinister plan of hers.

"Linda, do you know a good gym around here? I'm starting to feel fat." Brandy asked as we both stood in the kitchen. I glanced at her, and then I rolled my eyes as I looked back at the sink. It didn't look like she had an ounce of fat on her, and it always seemed like she was more than happy to show that off. She always wore shirts that exposed her flat belly. She always stretched, showing off her firm muscles and her fit back. She always wore things that molded to her firm ass. She didn't need help staying in shape. And why was she asking me? I never really went to the gym. Never had I even mentioned it.

"No. I'm afraid I don't." I said with a small smile.

"Oh. Okay. Maybe I'll ask Daddy then." Brandy said, padding out of the room. I followed her as she spoke to Marcus in the living room.

"Hey Daddy, where do you work out?" she asked.

"Uh, I'll work out at the school when I can." Marcus said.

"It looks like it works." Brandy said.

"Oh, I guess it works alright." Marcus said, flexing his bicep jokingly. Brandy walked over and put her hand on his bicep, giving it a small squeeze.

"Wow, Daddy. That's impressive." Brandy said.

"Oh, uh, thanks." Marcus said.

"No problem. I love feeling my Daddy's big muscles." Brandy said. I rolled my eyes.

I don't know why that bothered me so much. She calls me Linda, and she calls Marcus "Daddy". As if she wanted to make sure I knew that she was the child of Marcus and not me. Plus, something just seemed off about that statement. I tried to look past this, but there were other things that gave me the impression she was up to something.

I was delivering some clothes to her in her room as she was lying on her bed, texting. Her long smooth legs and her bare feet were exposed, wearing some stretchy shorts. Her face was also totally made up as well. It would be okay if she had been active today, but she had been lying around all day, looking pretty.

"You like your room?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"It's okay." she said, not looking up at me, not giving me the time to at least glance in my direction.

"Well, if you want any help decorating it, let me know. That's what I do." I said.

"No thanks, Linda." she said, dismissively, as if she wanted no part in having me help, wanted no part in bonding with me. I finished up delivering her clothes and left the room quickly.

She was never outwardly mean. Just bratty. Dismissive. Like when we went out, as a 'family', she would be bubbly and young and cute. But that would be directed more to Marcus, and she would only interact with me only if she had to. Her focus was on her father. And she talked about the most inane crap. Like her friends back home and the stupid things they would do. Marcus ate it up, loving to hear about his daughter's past. But I was finding it a bit grating.

My irritation was reaching a breaking point. Whenever Marcus was around she would be the cute doting daughter. But with just me, it was like she dropped the act. She would lie around, chat loudly on the phone, even when I was trying to watch TV. She would sleep in till past noon and would be napping whenever I went to find her. But when Marcus showed up she was full of energy. I would clean the coffee table, and five minutes later she would have her bare feet on the same table, doing her nails. She kept doing this crap in front of me, and not Marcus. He had been snowed by her, but I wasn't. I wasn't going to put up with her lying around all day, not looking for work. If she was going to live here, she would have to at least contribute. She didn't work. She did no chores.

Plus, it was just... I knew she was my step-daughter but... she dressed like a fucking skank! I swear, every fucking day I was assaulted by unwelcome views of her cleavage, her belly, her legs. And I could probably describe every mold and crevice of her perky little ass with the tight pants she wore. And plus, I knew which days she didn't wear a bra, because she happened to be extra peppy and bouncy those days, testing the tensile strength of her tight tops with her perky breasts and her constantly hard fucking nipples.

Something had to change. I knew girls like her. Little whores who could turn on the charm and they think that guys will bow to them, will bend to their will. They would just flash their perfect teeth, show off a mile of cleavage, and get their way. Well, she wouldn't get one over me. She would have another thing coming. Girls like her made my blood boil. I had to calm myself again. Remember my breathing.

The next day she had woke up well past noon. I was on the computer doing some work. I was able to work from home quite a bit, and I usually enjoyed having the alone time. But having this young girl around put a wrench into things. She wandered into the living room, her eyes still full of sleep, and I looked up at her over my screen.

"Hey, Brandy?" I started.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I know it's fun to sleep all day and lie around and talk to your friends. But you agreed to look for work. You agreed to contribute around here. And I am not seeing it. And we're beginning to get annoyed with this." I told her.

"You're getting annoyed." Brandy explained.

"What?" I asked.

"You're getting annoyed. You. Not Daddy. And I have no reason to listen to you. You're not my mother. If Daddy has a problem with me, he can come talk to me about it, 'kay?" Brandy said, dismissively, not even bothering to let me reply as she left the room.

I stewed in anger for the rest of the day at this petulant little girl. How did she stonewall me so effectively? How did she completely brush me off? Me? A woman over twenty years her superior. I was pissed! Finally, when Marcus got home I spoke up.

"You need to talk to your daughter about finding a job. She just lies around all day." I told him.

"She's just... getting adjusted." Marcus said, defending her.

"She's taking advantage of you." I said.

"Linda, I..." he began.

"She's your daughter, I get it. But you need to instill some discipline. She can't be a little princess forever. You need to be her father." I said. He nodded.

"I'll talk to her." he replied.

**********

(Marcus)

Brandy was perfectly capable of doing things on her own, but she loved having me take her places and hang out with her. Most girls her age felt the opposite; they wanted to be as far away from their folks as possible. But we didn't have those years of time together to get annoyed with each other. Now we were both adults. Well, she was a young adult, but an adult all the same. So we weren't getting to know each other the way a parent and a child would. We were getting to know each other as two adults.

There was still the excited newness between us. I had a daughter! And she had a dad! We were both so excited at this change in our lives that we couldn't get enough. But I could tell that that connection wasn't really forming between Brandy and Linda. Linda hadn't warmed to her as much as I had, and Brandy didn't have those warm feelings for her that she had for me. So she was eager to go out with me, just me and her, and with Linda's frosty feelings, she was happy to sit some of these trips out. And it would give me the chance to talk to her about finding a job.

So I was at the mall, walking behind my daughter. She had the tendency to talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk... you get the idea. And she also spoke a mile a minute, so I learned to just let her speak, and be a good sounding board.

"So, Carlee, she was like, dancing with Ronnie, but he was dating Kayla, and she was, like, dancing all skanky, trying to make J. J. jealous, and..." Brandy said, going on and on. I just smiled and nodded. Ah, the joys of having a teenage daughter. I was generally a pretty quiet guy so I was happy to let her spill her guts and dominate the conversation.

We stuck together for the most part while shopping. Me, following her when looking through her stuff, and her, following me as we looked at stuff I was interested in. But this stopped when we approached a place Brandy was clearly excited to go into, Victoria's Secret.

"Uh, wait, you want to go in there?" I said.

"Yeah, come on." Brandy said, ready to go in.

"Uh, I might let you do that on your own." I said, uncomfortable with the idea of going into a sexy underwear store with my own daughter.

"Oh, c'mon Daddy, this will be good father/daughter bonding time." Brandy said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Yeah, yeah, I don't think so. Have fun. I'll be over there at the sporting goods store. We'll meet up here when we're done." I said.

"Okay, Daddio." Brandy said with a laugh, walking inside as I walked the opposite direction.

I was looking for some new golf clubs but all the ones I saw where a bit too rich for my blood. So I was not there for long. I sat on a bench and waited for my daughter to return. I didn't want to be staring into Victoria's Secret like a perv or something, but I glanced in there every so often, looking to see if Brandy was almost done. For awhile I didn't see her, just other women and girls, and the occasional guy. I just sat there for a good fifteen or twenty minutes, waiting for my daughter to emerge. I finally caught sight of her. She was talking to a guy, closer to my age than hers, not a bad looking guy, and she was looking up at him, smiling as they chatted, flashing her teeth, playing with her hair. If I didn't know any better, I would say she was flirting. It looked like she was showing some pieces of underwear to him. Maybe he was getting her opinion? They had workers for that. She had a bag in hand, so she looked like she was done shopping, but he had stopped to help her out. I saw he was pushing a stroller, with a young kid inside. I kept an eye on them for a few minutes, before Brandy saw me and headed out to meet me.

"Find what you were looking for?" I asked, not wanting to pry too much and ask about that guy.

"You bet." she said. "Wanna see?"

"No. No thanks." I said with a laugh. "Let's get something to eat." I said.

We made our way to the food court. We split up, as I wanted a burger and she wanted Chinese food. I looked back across the food court and saw a few young guys around Brandy, chatting her up. Wow, it seemed like whenever I left on her own, boys would flock to her. My line was longer than hers, so she was seated before I was. It was as I got closer that I saw her seated at a table next to the same older guy she was talking with before at Victoria's Secret. He looked a little nervous as I approached, but Brandy did not as I joined them at the table.