It took months of not seeing her—months at West Pine University and a revolving door of endless pussy—before finally, I could come without picturing some version of Saige helpless beneath me.
And it took only one night to undo it.
Blythe cries out again, and even though I know she loves nothing more than to be on the receiving end of my thick cock—hell, she's been begging for it since she got back to campus—I know she's had enough and wants it to be over.
But I smell cinnamon from downstairs and know the object of my obsession is not far from reach. I pound into Blythe a little harder, hoping Saige can hear her scream.
And obsession is the right word for it, although I don't like to admit it. I became addicted to it—the look on her pretty face, the hopelessness and shame in her big brown eyes and their refusal to meet mine. There was power in it.
But Saige is more resilient than I'd hoped, more adaptable. And she stopped fearing me a while ago…until last night.
That's why I did it. It wasn't because of anything Dax said or the things I know about Miles—it was because I saw that look on Saige's tear-streaked face and feltsomethingfor the first time in a long fucking time. And I wanted to bathe in it. She was a hopeless, pathetic mess on my bedroom floor, and I don'tknow if I've ever been harder. I think I would have done just about anything to hold on to it. I didn't necessarily want Dax's dick in her mouth, but it was a means to an end. I drank in her shame, and I don't think she'll meet my eyes without that shame burning her cheeks ever again.
And when he pulled down her top, letting her perky little tits spill over the top…it took all my willpower not to take out my own rock-hard dick and stroke it in front of both of them.
I waited until after we got rid of him. Even then, I didn't want to let her out of my sight, but when she finished cleaning downstairs, I pulled it out, squeezing my fist over it only a few times before cum erupted from the tip, spilling all over my stomach and down my hand, imagining it spilling all over Saige's tits instead.
I haven't been able to get her out of my head or my dick out of my hand since. That's why I finally caved and texted Blythe back. We hooked up a couple of times last year; I'm always honest about who I am and what I want, and I don't like to lead girls on, so I rarely do repeats, but the situation felt dire, and she was right there. I fucked her twice last night, and when she fell asleep afterward, I let her stay so I could fuck her again this morning.
I told myself that in the morning, Iwouldn'tneed tothink about Saige. And I lied.
"Elias…" Blythe moans. "Come in me…please."
At this point, I know it's not just because she wants my cum; it's because I've fucked her raw, and she can't take it anymore. So, I give in, grabbing her by her blonde, curly hair, imagining it's Saige's wavy brown hair with the pink streaks in the frontthat I fucking hate wrapped around my fist instead. Closing my eyes, I picture Saige on my bed, her tits bouncing every time I slam my dick into her, humiliation in her eyes while her pussy milks my cock…and that despite the humiliation, when I pull it out, drenching her face in my cum, she can't help but to open her mouth for it.
Fuck, I'm going to explode.
"Fuck…I want to come on your face," I groan before flipping her over.
She doesn't object, so I pull out right before my dick erupts, removing the condom and pumping it in my hand, and in my head, ropes of white, hot cum paint my stepsister's face and tits.
"Holy shit," she says breathlessly once I finally stop spilling. "Elias, that was…"
"You can use this to clean up," I say, tossing her my shirt.
While the naked girl on my bed wipes the cum from her face, I catch the time and dress quickly, suddenly worried I won't make it downstairs before Saige leaves. I've lived here all summer; I know how thin these walls are.
I want to see her face after listening to me fuck. I don't bother putting a shirt on.
I head downstairs with Blythe still in the bathroom, exhaling relief when I see Saige is still here, making French toast. I pull out a chair, sitting across from Dax and Nolan.
"Sounds likeyouhad a good morning," Dax says.
Even from the side, I can see Saige's cheeks burning, her movement stiff and uncomfortable. She refuses to look in my direction, just how I like it.
"You have no fucking idea how good it was."
A few seconds later, Blythe comes downstairs, dressed in her clothes from the night before. She heads for the front door, and while I normally wouldn't stop her, I do now.
"Hey, Blythe, why don't you come sit down?"
"What?" she asks. "Why?"
Dax looks at me like I have two fucking heads.
"Saige, why don't you make my friend some breakfast, too?"
She doesn't turn, doesn't say anything, but I watch her tense up before soaking two more pieces of bread and then tossing them into the pan.
