Meeting My Wife’s Daughter

tagIncest/TabooMeeting My Wife's Daughter

When I became engaged to marry my wife May a couple years back, I was well aware that she had children from a previous marriage. Having been previously married myself, I had no issue with this. Especially since, both of us being in our mid-40's, her kids were both fully-functioning adults. No parenting necessary. Due to this fact, I actually hadn't met either of them until the big week leading up to our wedding. I knew she had a son named Darren in his early 20's living in Chicago, and a daughter named Sophia who was 18, and was nearing the end of her freshman year of college out in Seattle. This was the extent to which I knew them.
So imagine my utter shock when I finally met Sophia. Her mother is a beautiful woman, so I wasn't necessarily surprised that she inherited good genes. But what I was not expecting was to have to gather my jaw up off the floor upon her entrance, like picking up a pile of dropped textbooks.
It was Monday, just five days before we were to be married. I was nervous, as I was about to meet her children for the first time. I was also nervous because I was about to marry the love of my life! I had been through this before, but never had it felt quite this real. Despite this, I still had a deep-seated fear I couldn't fight. I was about to be locked down again. No sleeping around, no eyeing other women, full commitment. I had no intention of backing down from my choice, but imagine the torture I felt when Sophia walked through the door of our Minneapolis condo.
She was maybe the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on. Young, virile, tantalizing, with a sort of irresistible, cinematic sex appeal reserved for the Marilyn Monroe's and Christina Hendricks' of this world. She rocked a short-cropped, windswept head of brunette hair, which served to accent her sharp jaw and piercing hazel eyes, both of which she got from her mother. Her gaunt, bronzed white neck was tightly clasped by a gothic-black choker, guiding your eyes further downward to her well-defined collar bones, on full display surrounded by the violently scooped neck of her black crop-top. I had never felt sorry for a shirt before then, but the way her massive breasts were stretching it I began to fear for its well being. The plunging neck of her tight crop top revealed deep, full cleavage, which jiggled wildly within its confines with even the slightest step. It was immediately clear to me that she was not wearing a bra. Her nipples strained against the fabric hard enough that you could outline her quarter-sized areolas with your eyes.
Her tight stomach was on full display just beneath the daringly short length of the top, displaying her pierced belly-button. By the time my eyes had made it there, I realized I had not yet said a word and snapped out of my drooling stupor. Her mother, ever the socially-aware one, exclaimed "Hi honey! I've missed you so much," and ran up for a warm, familial embrace. I was then hit by a rush of confusing arousal, Sophia's pillowy breasts shoving into my fiance's slightly more modest (but no less shapely) chest, them both wiggling back and forth with unfettered glee. It took all my might to push the depraved sexual fantasies out of my mind. "This is James! James, I want you to meet my daughter Sophia."
For the first time, our eyes locked. Her striking gaze and warm smile almost knocked me backwards, but I maintained my composure and reached out for a cordial handshake. "Nice to meet you! I've heard so much about-" my handshake was rejected in favor of a tight embrace.
"I'm so excited for you two!" Sophia squealed into my ear, wrapping her arms around me. She was a slightly embarrassing couple of inches taller than me. At that height, her soft voluptuous breasts were almost up to my chin, pressing firmly against me. I could feel the blood rushing into my cock as my fight or flight instincts started to take hold. "She will not stop talking about you."
"Oh come on now, honey," May interjected quickly. "Let me go show you where you'll be sleeping, there'll be plenty of time to interrogate James later."
May pulled Sophia away from our hug and led her towards the stairwell. In my flustered state I managed to catch a rear-view that I could've watched for hours. Her ass was thick and curved, but tight and defined, an indication that she spent a significant amount of time squatting at the gym. It jiggled rhythmically as she pranced up the stairs behind my fiance. I could just barely see the outline of her panties through the loose, flowing but flattering fabric of her short black tennis skirt. Her round ass ever-so-slightly elevated the skirt's hem in the back to a dangerous height. I caught just a slight whisper of her panties on the last step before they rounded the corner. Red and lacy. Dear God.
Once again I snapped back into the real world, and gazed down to see I was pitching a tent in my jeans. I ran off to the downstairs bathroom like a flash.
After calming my *situation* down, I exited the bathroom to see my wife and stepdaughter-to-be chatting in the kitchen. "Honey," May addressed me, "I have to take off and run some last minute errands. You two get to know each other for a bit. There's plenty of food in the fridge if you need a bite to eat," addressing us both now. "Darren should be getting here tomorrow morning. See you in a bit!"
"Bye honey, love you", I said, giving her a quick kiss on her way out.
"Bye mom!" Sophia yelled.
As my wife headed out the front door, I sat down across from Sophia, who was now seated on the opposite side at the kitchen counter. "How was your flight?" I asked, unsure of where else to start the conversation after the whirlwind of arousal that was the last 15 minutes.
"Oh just fine!" she replied politely. "Mom says you've lived out here for quite awhile. I love it here! It's not so different from Chicago." That was where her and Darren grew up.
"Chicago's great! I've been there tons of times since I was a teenager," I said rather sheepishly, deathly afraid of the inevitable silence to come. My gaze started to drift slightly down to her ample cleavage again. She was sitting on a stool that elevated her above the height of the counter, and leaning forward slightly, ever-so-engaged in our bland small talk. She was extremely affable for someone her age. My eyes darted back up quickly before she could notice me staring at her massive tits, like a pervert.
"It's a great place. Great city to grow up in. It has its downsides, but I love it for what it is," Sophia responded.
I changed the subject before the well ran dry. "So how is school going? I heard you're going into journalism. That's a great career path for a bright young girl like you. Your mom seems so proud of you."
"It's going well! I've always been very passionate about justice and spreading the truth, and I think now more than ever it's very important to-"
She didn't trail off, I just lost my focus and resumed staring at her tits. I had never been such a raging horny fool in my life. I've always been all about polite nods, consistent eye contact, social graces. But something about Sophia awoke some animalistic, primal sexual hunger in me. She was everything my wife was, but more, better, sexier. It was as if God himself had accidentally dumped every desirable physical trait into one woman. She was in her absolute physical prime, the type of woman people crash their cars staring at crossing the street. Something in me just had to have her, needed to have her. Before marriage could hold me down for life.
This time I forgot to return my gaze quickly enough, lost in her jiggling breasts. She smirked at me knowingly, as though she had experienced this several times before. "You like what you see?" My heart skipped several beats. There was a pregnant pause that felt like hours but must've been all of five seconds. Silence. Then, "I'm just messing with you James!" she exclaimed through a snarky grin.
"Ha ha!" I laughed nervously as my pulse resumed.
"Do I have to call you James?" Sophia asked. "That feels like such a strange thing to call the man my mom's about to marry. Can I call you Daddy?" She spoke with a dry sincerity that made it impossible for me to tell if she was serious or not this time.
"I'd really rather you not, frankly. James is fine," I responded firmly. "After all, I'm not your father."
"Sure thing, Daddy," she retorted with mock defiance. She had me wrapped around her finger now, and she knew it. I could tell that this was a woman who knew the power she had over men and was not afraid to use it every once in a while. This only made her sexier to me.
"But anyway, as I was saying. I really think our country is moving away from valuing honest journalism these days. I don't expect to make a ton of money or anything, but I really hope that I can-"
I nodded politely and held eye contact with the intensity of an Olympic athlete. She had a certain habit of… gesticulating for emphasis as she spoke. She was very animated and very passionate, using her hands to express her points. I could see in my peripheral view that her tits were jiggling violently as she waved her hands around, stuck in place but just begging to be freed from that tight crop top. I wanted so badly to free them.
There was a pause. "It's great that you're pursuing something you're so passionate about!" I managed to say. I've always been good with the stock responses.
At that moment, she got up from the chair, bending forward ever so slightly more as she slid the stool out, giving me a slight birds-eye view of her soft, luscious tits. She headed towards the fridge and opened the door, looking around inside for something to eat. She put her weight on her right leg and her hand on her hip as she considered her options, elevating her thick ass slightly up to the left. She was wearing knee-high white sports socks, the ones with the thick red stripes, that accentuated her long, slender legs. Then she knelt down, and bent over to grab something from the fruit drawer, straining the material of her skirt tightly against her ass. Her panty line was far more pronounced in this position, and my imagination suddenly became less necessary. I felt like I was watching an old American Apparel ad unfold right in front of my eyes. Never had I seen a woman so effortlessly exude sex. I felt self-conscious for objectifying my fiance's daughter like this, but I just couldn't help myself. She straightened back up and tugged her skirt out in the back, as the static that was all-too-prevalent this time of year had made it stick to her ass in a disheveled, hiked-up fashion. There was another quick flash of the red panties before it settled back into place. She returned to the counter with an orange in her hand. Once again I was rock hard, and felt like a middle schooler hiding his boner under a desk. I took a sip of my glass of water that was sitting there.
"So, how did you meet my mom? I've heard bits and pieces," she says without glancing up, peeling the orange with her manicured red nails. At this point she was sitting with her shoulders pressed forward slightly, pushing her breasts into each other. They looked like they could pop out of the neck of her shirt if she were to push them just too far. I almost spat out my drink when I glanced down and saw this, but maintained my composure. Surely she was playing with me.
"We met when I was on a business trip," I replied. "In Chicago. It was at some big schmoozy cocktail party that neither of us really wanted to be at."
"She's always hated those types of things," Sophia said, taking a bite out of a piece of orange. How could something that innocuous turn me on? I could watch her eat an orange forever.
"We hit it off really well at the bar," I explained. "Eventually I gave her my number, and we kept in touch between my frequent trips out there. Then she got a job out here so we could be closer and, well, here we are." That was the Sparknotes version. We fucked like wild animals that night.
"Well she really seems to like you," she responded. "I'm glad she's found someone that treats her so much better than Dad did. I love him, but he can be a real asshole sometimes."
Sophia then pulled both arms out behind her and let out a big, dramatic stretch, straining her chest against the shirt, accentuating her nipples through the fabric, pulling the top up to an even more dangerous height. I could see the hefty underside of her tits starting to peek out the underside of her shirt. She either didn't notice or didn't care. "Anyway, I better go get unpacked. We'll talk later," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder as she walked past me towards the stairs again. She glanced down briefly and looked back up to me with a coy grin, biting her lip suggestively. Did she see my raging hard-on? I have no clue.
After waiting a few seconds, I snuck another quick peek of her jiggling ass on the way upstairs. Once I heard the door to the guest room close, I bolted up to my room and shut the door. I needed to take a breather. I proceeded to ditch my pants and jerk off furiously in May and I's bed. It didn't take long, as you can imagine. I cleaned myself up, and as I started pulling up my pants I heard the shower start in the next room over.
"Shit!" I heard Sophia exclaim a minute or so later. I had no intention of investigating that, but then I heard "James? James?" and had no choice but to approach the bathroom door and respond.
"Y-yes?"
"I'm afraid I forgot my shower stuff in my suitcase, but I'm already soaked. Any chance you could grab them for me?"
My eyes widened and I paused for a second. This must be some sort of seductive mind game she's playing. Am I crazy?
"James?"
"Uh… yeah, sorry. I'll go grab those for you. In your suitcase?"
"Yeah! The front zip pocket. Thank you!"
I scurried off to the guest bedroom to go find her shower things. I spotted her suitcase on the floor next to the bed, the main compartment left open. My curiosity got the best of me and I decided to take a quick peek inside. She had a tiny red dress, with a suggestively low neckline and a short hem at the bottom, for the wedding no doubt. I was looking forward to that ensemble. Some thin leggings in black and grey. A couple bras (she was staying for a week). Then I saw the neat rows of folded panties. Polka dots, lace, pink, red, black. I also saw a black thong with the tiniest strip of fabric for covering her pussy. That was an image I couldn't deal with. I realized I was probably taking far too long, and quickly found the travel bag with her shower kit in it. I walked back to the bathroom door.
"S-so, do you want me to just set this on the inside of the door?" I asked.
"No, no, I don't want to step out and get water all over the bathroom. Can't you hand it off to me?"
"Dear god," I muttered to myself quietly. "Uh, sure thing. I-I'm coming in!"
"Just don't look!" she replied, to my complete embarrassment.
I opened the door slowly with my eyes averted and walked blindly toward the running shower, holding out the bag. I peeked out briefly, to see where I was going I told myself, and could just make out the darkened silhouette of her curvy body through the translucent shower curtain. She really had the exaggerated hourglass figure that many women dream of: curved and slim in all the right places, but curved to the outward extremes of reason. I averted my eyes again quickly. "Alright, here you go."
I heard the shower curtain slide along the pole slightly and felt her reach out to grab the bag. "Hey, daddy," she said in a sultry tone, "thanks for the help."
Just then, by some reflex, a command from God, I don't know what, I opened my eyes and saw her heavenly breast peeking out from behind the curtain. Glistening wet under the shower head, as perfectly round and perky as I knew it would be, nipple pink and erect, surrounded by a perfect quarter-sized areola. I could see one of her legs as well; long, smooth, slender and glistening wet just the same. Some spirit was moving me to look at her, in spite of all the social niceties and notions of appropriateness I had come to value. "You do like what you see, don't you daddy?" I jumped slightly at the tender sound of her voice, realizing I had let my desire get the best of me.
I looked up, mouth slightly agape, and locked eyes with her. She met me with a seductive grin that would put a young Drew Barrymore out of a job. Her soaked, short hair was pulled back, so you could fully grasp how utterly stunning and sharp her face was. Those brilliant hazel eyes cut right into you. I felt the blood rush into my cock again. No amount of quick and dirty jerking off was going to satiate my desire.
"I do." I responded, utterly terrified. "I really do."
"I suppose you might want to see more, then?" Sophia responded. I nodded affirmatively.
She then proceeded to fully peel back the shower curtain, unveiling her body like the premiere of a sculptural masterpiece. Dripping from head to toe, I could now fully know the scope of her perfection. She wasted no time ignoring my awe and reached for her bottle of soap, squeezing some out into her hand, rubbing it between her palms. She then bent over slowly, agonizingly slow, and started lathering up her legs. I thought the refrigerator moment was the image of a lifetime, but boy was I wrong. She bent back up slowly and showed off the curve of her ass with unflinching confidence.
Then she started lathering up her tits. Massaging them around in circles, they were big, soft, and malleable, very much the real deal, but sat up more perfectly than any plastic surgeon could dream of. While they might not age well into her 40's, right now they were in their breathtaking prime.
"Your turn." She suddenly grabbed me by the arm, soaking the sleeve of my button-up shirt. She placed my hand on her left breast. I caressed, cupping my hand around it and squeezing softly. I circled my thumb around her nipple and she moaned softly in subtle pleasure. I then slid my hand slowly around to her back, starting at the shoulders. I ran my hand down the curvature of her back, feeling it slope inward, then outward around the curve of her plump, just-firm-enough ass. It felt so soft I could sleep on it.
"Take your shirt off," she quietly commanded. I obliged, removing my hand from her ass, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling my arms out of the sleeves, letting it drop to the floor. "Let me help you with that," she said, her eyes trained on my crotch. She bent forward slightly, reached out and unlatched my leather belt, sliding it out of the loop, and reached for the front button of my jeans. This was too good to be true, but I knew I wasn't dreaming. She slid her fingers between the waist of my briefs and my skin, sending a shiver through my entire body. She pulled down patiently and deliberately, slowly releasing my now completely hard cock. My pants dropped to the floor, and I stepped out. "Join me in here, won't you daddy?" I just about exploded right then and there, but managed to save my load for the real deal. I stepped in.
I was greeted by a rush of warm water, over my head and down my back. I pushed my wet hair back and wrapped my arms around her. We immediately started making out, passionately, like long lost lovers, caressing each others' wet bodies with exploratory wonder. We had just met a little over an hour ago, need I remind you. It was some sort of animal magnetism that drew us together, despite barely knowing each other, and despite her being my fiance's daughter and me being her mom's fiance.
As we kissed, I cupped one of her ass cheeks in my right hand and squeezed it, and she met my gesture with a rush of tongue in my mouth, which drove me wild inside. She whispered in my ear "I'd like to pleasure you, James." I shivered, despite the hot water cascading down my body.

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