Bacon And Eggs - Sex Stories

Bacon And Eggs

You wanna know how I ended up burning half the bacon?

I'll tell you.

What you think about me after -- well, shit. I usually finish, "might say more about you than it does about me," but this time it might simply say a lot about me. And her.

Emma is my stepdaughter. Junior in high school. Almost 17. I love her.

So when it was just going to be her and I for the weekend, and she asked if her classmate Bekki could have a sleepover, I said, "Sure. What do you two want for dinner?"

They wanted pizza.

I came home during my lunch break to make the dough, and stuck it in the fridge so it wouldn't rise too fast. Stopped for toppings on my way home, threw the stone in the oven, and divided the dough for the second rise while the oven heated.

It was a good dinner. The only problem was Bekki.

Both the girls are into sports, and while Emma is fit in a stringy way, Bekki is fit in a less harsh, more sensual way. I'm going to trust you know what I mean.

The girls had come from practice after school. They were wearing short shorts and tank tops.

Bekki, though, was also wearing over-the-knee red socks with white stripes banding the tops. My eyes were drawn to the smooth skin between the shorts and socks. The fluid flex of muscles when she moved.

And when she had first arrived -- "Hi, Emma's daddy!" -- and hugged me, it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts weren't big, but her nipples were pronounced.

I tried to focus on the pizza, and poured ...

... a glass of wine as soon as the first one went in the oven. The girls gossiped and giggled about school, and I played the attentive dad. Soda? Cheese and crackers while we wait? Hey, have you ever tried a virgin cocktail?

By the time dinner was over -- I like to make pizza a long, slow meal with lots of hanging out and haggling about toppings -- I'd had a glass more wine than I should have, and decided to leave the girls to do girl stuff. Besides, I was tired of hearing about the lame guys they crushed on at school. I felt like I'd taught Emma better.

But Bekki was stuck in my head -- her shorts, her tank top, her lithe muscly thighs, her nipples. At some point she had taken off the socks, and I was disappointed. And turned on.

Upstairs, I was restless. My penis was in that place where it wasn't hard, but was throbbing from the inside out. It felt thick, and heavy.

I decided to take a shower and calm down. Stupid, because showers always make me horny. Don't tell me you don't enjoy soaping yourself.

Anyway, by the time I was done showering, my penis was huge. The head was purple. I let the water drip off me, and slowly stroked myself. I took my time because I knew the girls were watching a movie.

God it felt good. Sex is one thing, and masturbating is another. There's something about self pleasure. The knowing what works. The anticipation and denial. The fulfillment.

Plus, when you're masturbating, you get to imagine whatever you want. Forgive me, but I ...