My Stepfamily Taboo Phone Sex Fantasy

Okay, I have to confess something, and I need you to promise not to judge me. For the longest time, my favorite thing to think about, like the thing that always got me going when I was alone in my room with my hand under the blanket, was this step family taboo phone sex fantasy. Not just any fantasy. It was always the same one. The house is full, everyone's downstairs laughing and being loud, and he finds me. My stepdad. His hand on the small of my back in a hallway where anyone could walk by. That was the fantasy. The almost-getting-caught part. The being his dirty little secret part.

I used to feel so guilty about it. He married my mom, he's supposed to be this respectable man, and here I am being absolutely filthy about him in my head every single night. But then last weekend happened, and now I don't feel guilty anymore. Now I just feel... hungry. Like, all the time.

It was a family thing. Cousins, aunts, everyone crammed into the house, the kind of weekend where the kitchen never stops being busy and there's always somebody's kid screaming somewhere. I was wearing this little sundress because it was warm out, and I kept catching him looking at me. Not the normal looking. The kind where his eyes go down my body and then snap back up real fast when someone walks past. By dinner I was squirming in my chair.

After dinner everyone was out on the deck, and I slipped inside to grab more ice from the laundry room freezer. That's the thing about our laundry room, it's right off the kitchen but nobody ever goes in there during a party. I was bent over digging through the freezer, my dress riding up, and I heard the door click behind me.

It was him. He just stood there for a second, and I could feel his eyes on me, and my whole body went hot. I should have stood up straight and played it cool. Instead I stayed exactly like that, bent over, because suddenly the fantasy wasn't in my head anymore. It was happening.

He came up behind me and his hands went to my hips, and I swear I almost melted right there on the cold tile. He told me I had been teasing him all day in that dress, and maybe I had been, maybe without even meaning to, or maybe meaning to a little. His fingers slid under the hem of my dress and up my thighs, and I was already wet, like embarrassingly wet, like my panties were soaked through. He found that out pretty fast and made this low sound that went straight through me.

I was so scared someone would come in. The deck door was right there, anyone could have walked in for ice or a bathroom break, and that fear made everything a hundred times hotter. His fingers slipped inside my panties and then inside me, and I had to bite my own hand to keep quiet. He worked me so slowly, curling his fingers just right, his other hand holding my hip hard enough that I knew I'd have little marks later. I loved that. I loved the idea of carrying a secret on my skin.

When I came, it ripped through me so hard my knees buckled, and he caught me, holding me up against his chest while I shook. I could feel how hard he was pressed against me, and I wanted more, I wanted everything, I wanted him to bend me over that washing machine and take me right there. But then we heard voices getting closer, footsteps on the deck, and he pulled away so fast, straightening his shirt like nothing happened, and I grabbed the ice with shaking hands and tried to look normal.

Nobody suspected a thing. We went back out to the party and sat there like two innocent people while my whole body was still buzzing. Every time our eyes met across the deck I had to look away because I was afraid my face would give everything away.

That was two days ago, and I haven't been able to think about anything else. The fantasy I used to whisper about on the phone, the whole step family taboo phone sex thing, it's real now. It's a memory, and it lives under my skin, and every time the house gets quiet I can still feel his fingers inside me in that laundry room.

Here's the part that's driving me crazy. He hasn't touched me since. He acts completely normal, like the perfect stepdad, like it never happened. And I don't know if that was a one-time thing or if he's waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for me to be somewhere alone again, somewhere with a door that clicks shut.

I keep finding excuses to be alone in quiet rooms. I keep wearing that sundress. And every time I hear footsteps behind me, my heart stops, because what if it's him, and what if this time nobody interrupts us, and what if this time he doesn't stop at his fingers.

I don't think I could survive it. I think I'd let him do absolutely anything he wanted. And the worst part, the part that keeps me up at night, is that I think he knows.