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This, the second part of the story of my stepdaughter and I, contains incest, dirty panties, masturbation, and some very, very mild scat.

Again I ask if such doesn’t interest you, find a story here that does and read and have fun. You’ll be happy and I’ll be happy. Some of us share desires and kinks that others do not. Enjoy yours as I enjoy mine.

Criticisms are welcome, but please understand I’m trying to improve my writing.

All persons in this story are 18.

*

This is the story of my stepdaughter and I and the very special relationship we’ve had for 20 years.

It’s less imagined than true.

It’s Holly’s story more than mine, actually.

I thought, after struggling to write of my first experience with my stepdaughter, that it would be easier to write of the next.

It wasn’t.

I fought with both my conscience and the words. And I wondered if it is even possible to capture, to express, the feelings – both physical and emotional – of what we shared all those years ago at the beginning of the journey we started. Although I’ve tried I’m not so sure I’ve succeeded. I almost gave up.

But she told me not to stop writing about her…

*

The second experience I had with Holly was quite a bit different than the first but no less surprising, shocking, to me than the first.

Perhaps even more so, truthfully.

In the end I began to understand she and I were going to continue with what we’d begun. She wanted us to.

She opened doors she shouldn’t have.

She opened doors we couldn’t close again.

She opened doors, and taking my hand, pulled me through.

And I followed. Willingly.

My stepdaughter was 5’3″, maybe 5’4″, her senior year of high school and, I’d guess, about 185, 190 lbs., possibly a little more. With bright blue eyes and dark brown hair (that hung down a couple inches past her shoulders) she’d inherited from her biological father, she had large heavy breasts, wide shapely hips and a large heavy rear which she’d inherited from her mother. Big tits that tended to strain the fabric of almost any shirt she wore, and a big ass that pulled tight any pants, jeans, or skirts she wore.

Simply put, my stepdaughter was a big titted, big assed fat girl.

She was beautiful.

She still is.

As Holly showered, I made my way, shakily, back to the kitchen, sitting in the same chair I’d been sitting in when my stepdaughter had burst through the door dropping her book bag on the floor and exclaiming she’d hurt her back. The paperwork I’d been struggling with lay strewn across the table. Exactly as it was when Holly had gotten home and asked for my help, leading me down the hall to the bathroom, leading me to…

As I sat, I reached for my cigarettes, fumbling with the pack and fishing one out with trembling fingers – almost not believing what had just happened. I heard the faint sound of running water as my stepdaughter stood naked under the steaming spray of the shower, her hands slick and frothy with soap, gliding over her body: down over and under her big tits; down her plump belly to slide between her thick thighs and over her hairy teenaged pussy – a finger slipping through the curls to rub over, tease, the nub of flesh at the top of her slit? – before sliding over her hips and around behind and between the cheeks of her fat ass, washing away any traces of saliva left from my lips and tongue and any of her own dirtiness I may have missed as I licked her there. The realization of what I – what we – had just done began to register in my brain.

I’d just spent the last hour or so kneeling behind Holly, first smelling and then licking her admittedly unwiped ass. I’d pushed my tongue as deeply as I could up into her dirty rear hole, tongue fucking my stepdaughter’s asshole and stroking my cock as she looked over her shoulder and watched.

I’d felt her hips rocking, pushing back onto my face, trying to force my tongue even deeper.

I’d felt the thick, dark, muscular ring of her anal opening clenching around my probing tongue as she came.

Split seconds later, I’d cum myself. Mumbling her name against her saliva wet – and cleaner – asshole, the strong taste of my stepdaughter’s shit in my mouth as stream after stream of cum jetted from the head of my cock onto her sneaker, her pants leg and across the bathroom floor.

Part of me wanted to deny what had happened – perhaps I’d lost myself in some sort of hallucinatory fantasy triggered when Holly had walked through the door after school.

But I could still feel the warmth of her flesh. Could still feel the stickiness of her deep asscrack, her sweaty inner asscheeks on either side of my face, my nose and lips. The smell of her big dirty rear was all around me and the bitter taste of her unwiped asshole coated my mouth and tongue.

There was no denying any of those things.

I knew the smell of my stepdaughter’s big butt from the many times I’d sniffed – and licked – her dirty panties. I knew the taste of her ass – the taste of her shit from the many times pendik escort I’d tasted it in the brown streaks and smears on the cotton lined crotch of her worn panties. Her odor and flavor in my nose and on my tongue would flood my mind as I stroked my cock and pressed the crotch of Holly’s worn, dirty underpants to my face. And I’d cum. Hard. Imagining all the nasty things I wanted to do with her.

And as orgasm shook my body, I’d whisper her name…

As I sat in the kitchen that day, however, the odor that enveloped me and the nasty clinging taste on my tongue wasn’t the faded smells and flavors held in Holly’s worn panties. No. It was strong. Pungent. Rich and thick in my nose and mouth. Fresh. It was what I’d imagined my stepdaughter’s dirty ass would smell and taste like in the fantasies I had.

But this wasn’t a fantasy.

No – although I guess there was a part of my sane mind that wished it was. After all, Holly was my stepdaughter, and I’d just…

Sitting there, I knew she was only steps away from me and, even after what had just happened, I felt my cock stir in my pants.

After she’d showered and slipped quietly into her bedroom, I walked down the hall towards the bathroom. I needed to clean up. I needed to wash my stepdaughter from my face. I couldn’t greet my wife at the door when she got home smelling of another female’s ass.

If I did, would she know it was her daughter’s? Would she know the odor on my face and the taste in my mouth as we kissed hello was Holly’s?

Yes, I know exactly how awful, perverse, shameful, that thought was.

But…I did briefly wonder…

I paused briefly, looking at my stepdaughter’s bedroom door and wondered if I should knock, ask if she was okay.

Honestly, I simply couldn’t bring myself to.

I should have, I know, but I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t have known what to say even if I’d been brave enough to have tapped on her door.

More than a little ashamed, I stepped into the bathroom, undressed and climbed into the shower to wash the smell and taste of her from my face and mouth. I didn’t want to – I liked having the scent of her, the taste of her, around me – but I had to. My wife, Holly’s mother, would be home soon.

Washing my face and brushing my teeth only removed the smell and taste of her from my skin and mouth. It didn’t remove the memory…

I wished it had.

I was glad it didn’t.

In spite of any fears I had, the rest of that evening went normally. As if nothing had occurred. Although that night as I lay in bed with my wife asleep beside me, the memory of my stepdaughter and I and what had happened in the bathroom played itself out once more in my mind in images that danced across my closed eyes.

I, somehow, finally drifted off to sleep. With a throbbing erection that begged for release it wouldn’t get…

The next few days passed as they almost always did. The weekend slid by, far too quickly as it does for most working people, with nothing seeming out of place. Aside from a few well hidden glances and shy smiles she gave me as the 3 of us sat at the table at dinner or across the living room as we watched whatever tv show together or as she and I passed in the hallway, everything was as it had always been. It seemed as if nothing and everything had changed between my stepdaughter and I.

Several days passed since my stepdaughter and I had spent the afternoon alone in the bathroom. Despite any worries I’d had – aside from those hidden smiles she gave me that seemed to say ‘we have a secret’ – not a thing seemed to have changed in our shared world.

The days were as normal as they always were. Work for my wife and I, school for Holly. Although I’ll admit in the mornings, as I locked the door behind me, I watched both the big butted women in my life walking, my wife heading to her car and Holly towards her bus stop, and revel in the fact that I knew how each of their big asses smelled, felt in my hands, and tasted. Mother and daughter so much alike and so different at the same time.

Holly’s ass didn’t feel, smell, or taste better than her mother’s. Just different.

I knew the smell, the taste, of both.

And I loved both.

Wanted both, to be honest.

As I watched both those big asses walking, swaying side to side, each with its own special jiggle – a 30 something mother and an 18 year old girl – under their clothes, my wife’s held in a snug skirt or pair of dress type pants suitable for the office and my stepdaughter’s in an acceptable – for – school tight pair of jeans or, occasionally, a skirt, lust would course through my body.

Locking the door, I’d hurry down the couple of steps, and meet my wife as she unlocked the door of her car and we’d share a quick kiss goodbye. Moments later I’d drive past Holly as she walked to the bus stop and my eyes would wander over her shape as, shamefully I admit, they had the last year or so. And she’d smile and wave as she always did. Although now her smile seemed a bit more knowing.

I hated şerifali escort that smile.

I loved that smile.

And I’d drive to work with an erection.

What had she done to me?

My entire world had suddenly been upended by a teenager. By one 18 year old girl.

By my stepdaughter.

By Holly.

I sometimes wished that I’d never been foolish enough to have looked at my stepdaughter’s underpants. Before that first day when I’d been driven by desires I shouldn’t have had to hold Holly’s worn panties to my face, it was only my wife’s dirty panties I looked for in the wash or under the mattress when she’d whisper to me that she had left me something to think about her with or the pairs she’d hand me when she changed clothes after work and watch me stroke my cock before crawling onto the bed on her knees, pull her fat asscheeks apart and whisper, ‘hurry…’.

While a part of me wished I’d never touched or thought of my stepdaughter in the ways I had, another part of me wanted so desperately to find another pair of her panties that were so…

Stuck somewhere between guilt, shame, and desire, and knowing I shouldn’t, I still searched for my stepdaughter’s worn panties on the days I did the laundry. Finding her most recently worn pair, I’d hold them to my face, breathing in the smell of her teenaged crotch. Knowing my time alone was limited, I’d quickly pull my hardened cock from my pants and stroke it as I looked at the seat of her panties, hoping to find some evidence of her big butt on the fabric, before pressing my nose to that area of the cotton lining and inhaling the odor of Holly’s pussy and fat ass. I’d cum hard and quickly, the smell of my stepdaughter’s rear in my nose.

While she’d left hints of her wonderful big ass in the crotch of her panties, those slight very light brownish streaks like she almost always did that I loved and smelled and licked at, I kept hoping to find a pair that held a heavier, dark brown smear from her ass when she’d not wiped herself properly. None of the pairs I found showed her to be dirty.

Not really dirty.

Not like when she’d been careless.

Not like when she’d been in a hurry.

Not like when she’d found the stall she used didn’t have enough (or any) toilet paper.

Not like when she’d not wiped herself at all like she’d admitted she sometimes did.

Not like I wanted her to be…

It had only been a short while that doing the laundry had become a regular household chore of mine, only a short while that I had been exposed, so to speak, to my stepdaughter’s underwear. Yes, initially, I was a little shocked by her dirtiness, about her carelessness, her seeming lack of concern about that particular part of her hygiene. I admit that I was a little curious about it, about why her panties so often had a brown skidmark left in the crotch and, truthfully, at the time, I believed part of the reason was my stepdaughter, frankly, had a big ass.

Or maybe she just never allowed herself enough time and was in a hurry.

Or maybe there wasn’t any, or enough, toilet paper in the restroom stall she’d chosen.

But none of those reasons made sense on the days she wasn’t in school.

Maybe she was just lazy.

Maybe she just didn’t care.

Or maybe…

Regardless of the reason, shamefully I’ll admit that I loved what I’d discovered in my stepdaughter’s worn underpants.

God, Holly’s big ass… and the way it smelled, the way it tasted in her worn, dirty panties.

I’d begun to fantasize about her, about Holly’s large meaty ass.

I began to fantasize about my stepdaughter’s big butt, about her dirtiness.

Yes, I felt guilty about the nasty thoughts I began to have whenever she was near. Felt guilty whenever I found myself looking at her fat ass.

Felt guilty when I’d look at her plump teenaged rear and wonder if the panties she wore – or her asshole – might be dirty…

Sometimes, when I didn’t find a pair of her panties, I would press a pair of her recently worn jeans to my nose and inhale the scents of her crotch held in the denim…

Doing the wash had become a chore that I’d come to look forward to – but there was always the fear that my stepdaughter might catch me, even after what she’d done with me in the bathroom, sniffing her worn underpants.

*

I’d slipped out of the office a little early – basically because I could, one of the few perks of my position. Traffic was light and I got home from work much earlier than usual. It would be some time before Holly got home from school and my wife from her job. My work clothes off and into much more comfortable clothes for the rest of the day and evening, I loaded the washing machine. The laundry needed to be done and I was home. A convenient excuse that, I suppose, eased the guilt I felt looking for, smelling and jacking off with my stepdaughter’s worn panties.

I kept hoping I’d find a pair she’d worn on a day she’d not bothered to wipe herself after using the toilet.

She had silivri escort told me she sometimes didn’t.

I knew I had time to masturbate before my stepdaughter got home from school and her mother arrived home after work

(Was that the real reason I’d left work early that day? To be alone with my stepdaughter’s worn and hopefully dirty panties?) The wash would be well underway – in the dryer by then – and I’d be sitting in the living room or maybe on the deck enjoying the warm spring weather, with the radio playing softly, maybe a cigarette in hand and sipping an after work beer perhaps, when I’d hear the brakes of her bus. It would be almost half an hour after that before my wife’s car pulled into the driveway next to mine. The guilt that still washed over me after jacking off with Holly’s worn underwear would, by that point, have lessened.

I was wrong.

Finding a pair of my stepdaughter’s underwear amongst the clothes I dropped into the waiting open mouth of the washing machine – gray nylon stretched and thinning from wear – I let them dangle from my hand a moment or two, rubbing the fabric, slick and cool, between my fingers. I realized I’d seen them before. I…knew them. I’d sniffed that very pair before. Had found a heavy smear of brown in the fabric.

The cotton lined crotch was tinted from her pussy and her previous dirtiness, and there in the fabric, just behind the wonderful stains of her young pussy, Holly had left another oh so light brownish streak in her panties. As she almost always did.

Slight enough that that brown smear might have been missed, overlooked. Unless you were deliberately looking for it.

I was.

My stepdaughter hadn’t been truly dirty, just not completely thorough in wiping herself – like always, it seemed – and when the crotch of her panties had gotten pinched between her large butt cheeks as she moved throughout her day, the fabric had, if only briefly, kissed her anus.

Oh, god…

Just the idea that the material held in my hands had been that close to my stepdaughter’s anal opening…

I felt my cock begin to slowly stiffen; felt the fabric of my underwear against it as it began to thicken; felt it shifting position as blood swelled my prick and it left the comfortable pocket it had been resting in to push outwards against the confines of my pants.

Holly… you dirty girl…

Holding her underpants open, I lifted them to my face. I could smell the scent of her an inch or so away and it grew stronger – the musky smell of her cunt with a hint of sweat, urine and perfume (whenever I smelled Holly’s favourite perfume, I always imagined her dabbing it on her innermost thighs; on her skin just at the top of the triangular patch of dark curls that covered her crotch; perhaps working a finger through the hair there to dab it on her skin just above her fat pussy lips) till I pressed my nose into the pussy stained fabric and her scent filled my nose.

I moaned.

The scent of my stepdaughter’s crotch, her teenage cunt was incredible. Her young pussy smelled delicious and made my mouth water.

Moving the soft cotton on my face, my nose found that so very slight chocolate brown streak and the smell of her fat ass overwhelmed my senses. The earthy aroma of Holly’s anal opening filled my nostrils. Not the stink I’d smelled in the crotch of her dirty panties before, not the overpowering, strong, harsh odor that filled my nose that day in the bathroom, the smell was still identifiable. Unmistakably anal.

I knew the smell in my nose was my stepdaughter’s rear, knew it was the smell of her asshole.

As awful as it is to admit, I knew the smell of my stepdaughter’s ass almost as well as I knew the smell of her mother’s…

I inhaled the smell of my stepdaughter’s big butt and groaned.

I honestly loved the smell of Holly’s ass.

And, yes, I hated that I loved it.

But I did.

As my cock grew hard and desire for something, someone, I shouldn’t have felt that way about, took control of my brain and body, I clumsily fumbled with both my belt and zipper, before finally managing to undo them and pull my rapidly hardening prick out of my shorts and into the open. My hand encircled it immediately and slowly slid up then down the length then up again, thumb brushing over the head. The smell in my nose reminded me again of her much stronger odor just days ago as I knelt behind her – and that memory once again played itself out across my mind’s eye. Like a vivid and far too personal porn film.

A movie I’d watch happily over again and again and stroke my cock each and every time…

I saw myself kneeling behind Holly. Pushing my face into my stepdaughter’s big heavy rear. The smell of her. Watching as she pulled her panties down and then pulled the cheeks of her fat ass apart.

Surprisingly offering me freely something I’d so long wanted.

The dark depth of her asscrack. The strong odor that came from between her large, fleshy asscheeks. The heady, rich, earthy stink that washed over me, filling my nose.

I heard her again whispering, ‘Lick my ass, dad… I want you to…’

The brown smears on her innermost cheeks, on the wrinkled skin and sparse dark hair around her anus, on her large thick asshole, that dissolved under my tongue and flooded my mouth with the awful and wonderful taste of her most recent shit.

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