Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad

And oh god, but I gushed at his words, my pussy literally letting out a rush of cream. Having his baby? Breastfeeding his child, my boobs swollen with nutritious milk? And oh god, but having Robert drink it from my nipple as well, caressing my jugs, squeezing it from me with a big hand as he lapped up the liquid? It was so nasty, so wrong, and oh god, but I wanted it so much. But the image jolted me back to consciousness because right, a baby wasn’t in the picture, not yet and we needed to figure that part out stat.

“Mr. Martin,” I gasped as he tongued me, licking my white flesh, his big hands massaging my tender boobs. “I’m not sure where this is going, but … I’m not on birth control,” I said in a rush.

And the alpha male paused for a moment then, his mouth stilling from its ministrations. He’d bitten lightly into the underside of my breast, and I could see slight teeth marks, he was marking me as his, there’d be a bit of redness, even a bite circle after he was done.

“Why not?” he growled low in his throat, eyes blazing. “Aren’t all college girls on birth control? You and Jonah aren’t taking precautions?”

And I took a deep breath because it was time for my big reveal.

“No Mr. Martin,” I whispered. “Jonah and I haven’t done it yet, we’ve never, um, you know, really gotten there. And actually, I haven’t done it with anyone yet,” I whispered. “So you’re my first.”

And now Rob stopped altogether, all movement ceasing. Slowly, he looked up at me from below, blue eyes blazing, nostrils flaring slightly, harsh streaks decorating those cheekbones.

“You’ve never had sex,” he ground out, more a statement than a question. “Never had a man touch you before.”

And I whined a bit, pushing my breast against his mouth reflexively, wanting to feel those talented lips, that tongue on my sensitive spots once more.

“Yes,” I breathed, almost unable to speak. “Or no,” I shook my head confused. Oh god, my brain was mush. I could barely think and was answering questions as both yesses and nos, my body no longer my own, every sense on fire, attuned to him. So I took a deep breath and started again, determined to make sense this time.

“Yes, Mr. Martin,” I breathed. “I’ve never had a man in me before, I’ve never touched anyone so there wasn’t any need for birth control,” I said flushing hotly. And now that I was nude, the flush was visible all over my chest, spreading down over my breasts, reaching across my belly and straight down to my moist, warm cunt.

Rob pulled back, breathing hard, standing for a moment to catch his breath.

“That changes everything,” he growled. “I want to know how a girl as succulent as you, as nubile and beautiful, is untouched at eighteen, but we’ll get to that later. Because baby, I want you too bad and I can’t wait.”

I inhaled through my nose, breath rising heavily, soft belly tightening as my cunt grew even looser and wetter.

“Yes, Mr. Martin,” I confessed, whispering. “I want you too.”

And the gleam flared in his eyes, cock so hard, so stiff now that it pressed up all the way against his belly button. With agile hands, he shucked off his sweater and jeans, leaving him wearing nothing but silky skin and oh god, he was so gorgeous. The man’s skin was a deep bronze and I could see definition, his pecs, his abs so strong, those thighs thick like tree trunks. And oh god, but that cock. I was ready to dive on my knees to feel it, stroke it softly, press it against my cheek, take the velvety softness in my mouth, do anything to get it into me. Because we were both nude now, standing in the kitchen in broad daylight, both of us panting, eyes tearing each other up, the evidence of our lust everywhere, his dick tip wet, pearling with pre-cum as my cunt gushed again, the insides of my thighs smeared with sweet, aromatic juice.

But Mr. Martin wanted things done right, and with a steady hand, he reached for a carton of milk, pouring some into a bowl. What the hell? This was no time to eat cereal, I didn’t want Froot Loops or Choco Crunch, what was going on?

But the big man set the bowl on the floor then and looked at me with hungry blue eyes. I looked right back at him, astounded and confused. Was this for a dog or a cat, like a saucer to lick milk from? There were no pets from what I’d seen last night, nothing but humans in this apartment. And suddenly a thought struck. Oh my god, was I supposed to drink from it, lap up the good stuff like a good little girl, get on my knees and be a dog in front of him? Was this BDSM stuff an inherited taste?