Father-in-law

I'd seen the way he looked at me whenever I went to his house. That week at the beach, away from everyone, I decided to find out how far my boyfriend's father would go.

I agreed to help him organize his new house out of pity. I never imagined that each bet would leave me with less clothing and more eager to lose the next one.

The three of us lived under the same roof, and at first the only strange thing was the silence. Then came the drinks, the dancing, and a trust that should never have crossed any door.

When I climbed into the pickup with my unconscious boyfriend in the back seat, his father already had that smile of someone who knows exactly what’s about to happen.

He climbed those five floors to confront his girlfriend’s mother. He had no idea her husband was home, or what proposal would come out of his mouth that afternoon.

I opened the door expecting an awkward visit. I never imagined that man would make me kneel in my own kitchen and forget completely that I was his daughter-in-law.

I was 24, with a sweet girlfriend and a doubt I’d kept quiet for years. His hand on my shoulder that night at the bar ended up answering it.

I left that store trembling with desire, never imagining that by that same week I’d be on my knees, begging to be used with not a shred of tenderness.

She had been training with plugs for weeks, determined to feel two cocks at once. That afternoon we invited the only person we could trust to make it happen.

I wanted to surprise him in the shower, like every afternoon. I slipped naked behind that broad back and, when it started to turn, I realized it wasn’t my boyfriend.

I walked into the bathroom by mistake and found him under the water. Ever since, I return to that image every night I’m alone and can’t get it out of my head.