Craving the Older Man: A Collections of Forbidden Affairs

Natelia My hips slammed down harder on the thick silicone shaft, the dildo stretching my slick walls with every thrust. Sweat beaded on my skin as I rode it faster, picturing Bruce’s strong hands gripping my waist, his rough voice growling commands in my ear. “That's it, baby girl,” he'd say, his c**k…thicker and hotter than this toy, pounding up into me without mercy. I leaned back on my bed, one hand bracing against the mattress while the other pinched my n****e, twisting it until a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain shot straight to my core. The room filled with the wet sounds of my p***y slurping around the dildo, my juices dripping down its length and soaking the sheets beneath me. God, I needed him for real. Ever since that dinner where Mom paraded him around like her prize, all broad shoulders and that confident smirk, I'd been obsessed. He wasn't my dad, but calling him ‘daddy’ in my fantasies made it dirtier, more forbidden. I had never hidden the fact that I wanted him from him, since they got married but he always ignored me but I knew he would give in soon. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, it was probably another text from my mom, gushing about their weekend plans. I ignored it, grinding my c**t against the base of the toy instead. “f**k me like you own me, Daddy,” I whimpered, my voice breaking as an orgasm built low in my belly. In my mind, Bruce flipped me over, yanking my ass up high. His fingers dug into my hips, bruising the flesh as he lined up his throbbing c**k and drove it deep, splitting me open. No condom, no pulling out….just raw, relentless f*****g until he flooded my p***y with his c*m, marking me as his secret slut. I came hard, my thighs quivering as waves of ecstasy crashed over me. My walls clenched around the dildo, milking it like it was his d**k, and I cried out his name….”Bruce! Daddy!”...collapsing forward in a heap. But even as the aftershocks faded, the ache didn't. I wanted the real thing. Maybe tomorrow, when Mom was out, I'd find a way to make it happen for real this time. I will slip into something skimpy, ‘accidentally’ brush against him in the kitchen. Yeah, that could work. The next morning, sunlight filtered through my curtains as I stretched in bed, the sheets was still tangled from last night's frenzy. My p***y throbbed faintly, a reminder of how desperately I craved Bruce’s c**k inside me. Mom had left early for her yoga class, chirping about brunch plans later…..perfect. I had the house to myself with him. I slipped out of bed, naked, and rummaged through my drawer for the tiniest shorts I owned, the kind that rode up my ass cheeks and barely covered my mound. No bra, just a thin tank top that clung to my t**s, n*****s already hardening at the thought. I brushed my hair into messy waves, dabbed on some gloss, and headed downstairs, heart pounding. Bruce was in the kitchen, pouring coffee, his back to me. He wore those gray sweatpants that hugged his muscular thighs and….fuck, it outlined the bulge of his c**k even soft. I bit my lip, imagining it swelling hard against my thigh. “Morning,” I said casually, sliding onto a stool at the island, crossing my legs so my shorts hiked up higher. He turned, eyes flicking over me quickly before settling on my face. “Hey, kiddo. Your mom's out for a bit.” His voice was deep, rumbling, just like in my dreams. He set a mug in front of me, leaning close enough that I smelled his soap…clean and masculine. My c**t twitched as I pictured dropping to my knees right there, yanking those pants down, and sucking his thick shaft into my mouth until he groaned. “Yeah, she mentioned. You sleep okay?” I asked, sipping the coffee, letting my tongue linger on the rim. His gaze dipped to my chest, where my n*****s poked through the fabric. He cleared his throat, adjusting his stance….did his c**k just twitch? “Fine. You?” I stood, pretending to stretch, arching my back so my ass pushed out toward him. “Kinda restless. Hot night.” As I reached for the fridge, I ‘accidentally’ bumped into him, my hip grazing his crotch. It was firm and warm. He stepped back, but not before I felt the outline of his d**k against me. “Sorry,” I murmured, turning with a carton of juice, my cheeks flushed. “No problem.” His eyes darkened, lingering on my legs. Tension crackled in the air, thick as the ache building between my thighs. I poured the juice slow, bending a little extra, knowing he could see the curve of my ass peeking out. When I straightened, our eyes locked. “You know,” I said softly, stepping closer, “I've been thinking about you a lot lately.” His brow furrowed, but he didn't move away. “What do you mean?” I trailed a finger down his arm, feeling the muscle tense under my touch. “Like... imagining what it'd be like if you f****d me hard, right here on the counter.” The words hung between us, bold and filthy. His breath hitched, c**k visibly thickening in his pants now, straining the fabric. For a second, he hesitated, glancing toward the door. Then he shot out his hand, grabbing my wrist. “That's dangerous talk, girl.” But his voice was rough and hungry. I pressed against him, my t**s brushing his chest, p***y soaking through my shorts. “I want it, Daddy. Please.” The word slipped out and his grip tightened, pulling me flush to his body. His erection ground into my belly, hot and insistent. He groaned low, crashing his lips onto mine. Thrusting his tongue in deep, claiming my mouth, as his hands roamed….squeezing my ass, yanking my shorts aside to finger my wet slit. “f**k, you're dripping,” he muttered against my lips, plunging two fingers inside me, curling to hit that spot that made my knees buckle. I moaned into his kiss, grinding on his hand, desperate for more. Bruce spun me around, bending me over the island. My tank top hiked up, exposing my t**s to the cool air. He shoved my shorts down my thighs, the fabric pooling at my ankles. “You want Daddy's c**k? Beg for it.” He grunted, cracking his palm against my ass, the sting blooming into heat that pooled in my core.