Ariana’s Dirty Mouth

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Anal

In this one, Damien is separated from his wife. One evening, his step-daughter turns up at his door. She’s left home and has nowhere else to go.

It’s only a small flat and there’s only one bed…

Here’s a step-daughter/Daddy piece for you.

I hope it brings some enjoyment.

I apologise for any errors which may remain in the text.

Feedback would be appreciated.

Thank you for reading.

GA – Da Nang, Vietnam – 14th of May 2016.

***

I watched the ripe blonde slurping the cock. She seemed to be enjoying herself, her grin fixed on the man’s face as she muttered profanities and cranked at his impressive length with one hand. It seemed a good point for me to unzip and haul out my hard-on. I could watch as they fucked, tugging myself into a frenzy until I sobbed with relief and let the spunk fly.

A few strokes had me moaning and gasping, my stare locked on the woman as she turned her back to the man. She was standing by then, up on her feet, creased at the waist so she could taunt him with her eyes, one shoe going up onto the desk while she held herself open.

The man gaped at the sight of the woman’s splayed buttocks, her labia sticky with need in plain view, the lips heavy and pouting. He moved a step closer, leaning in over her back so he could kiss her mouth, her hand coming up to his face as he nudged at her sex.

I had just worked myself into a rhythm, vaguely wondering how I was going to keep the mess off my suit when the sound of the doorbell interrupted my wanking.

At first I ignored it. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so decided to carry on chugging my cock, my eyes fixed on the screen.

“Fuck off,” I muttered when, less than thirsty seconds later, the bell chimed again.

When it happened a third time, I snarled an expletive and went for the mouse, pausing the scene on the laptop so the image it sent to the television froze. I used the remote to switch the TV to stand-by, blanking the filth before going to the door.

As I was shoving my hard-on back into my trousers, the insistent clangour sounded again.

“For fuck’s fucking sake!” I called out. “Will you shut up. I’m coming.”

My erection was most disappointed and unwilling to quietly lie down, so I checked the ridge wasn’t too obvious a moment before I opened the door.

“Oh,” I blurted, so surprised I forgot all about berating the caller. “What are you doing here?”

I could tell she was troubled by the look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes round, expression imploring. “I wouldn’t have come, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Ariana blinked a few times while gnawing on her lower lip. She glanced down to the sports bag at her feet, then directed her stare at me once again.

“I came straight here from work … It would only be for a few days…”

I boggled at the girl, realisation a near physical blow.

“You want to stay here?” I asked her.

Ariana nodded, three quick bobs of her head.

“What’s happened? Don’t you have any friends you could stay with? What about Sarah? What about Robert?”

Her bottom lip shivered at the mention of her boyfriend’s name.

“Sarah’s in Cyprus. She’s on holiday … And Robert…

“Please, Damian,” the girl warbled after a pause, her eyes brimming over. “I…” she began, throat working as she struggled with her emotions. “Can’t I just come in?” My step-daughter looked away to her right, down along the corridor. “I can’t talk out here,” she finished.

I knew she’d end up staying as soon as I sighed and nodded and stepped back from the door. It was a foregone conclusion as soon as the girl picked up her bag and gave me a weak grin.

“Thank you,” Ariana whispered as she went past.

*

I took her blazer, the bank logo stitched on the pocket, and carried it through the living room and into my bedroom where I hung it in the wardrobe.

When I walked back in to the lounge, Ariana was perched on the two-seater settee, knees primly together, her hands on top as she sat there straight-backed, feet side-by-side.

My step-daughter looked at me when I asked if she’d like a drink. “Do you have vodka?” she asked. “Or red wine?”

I nodded and said, “Both, which would you prefer?”

“If you’ve got lemonade, I’ll have the vodka. If not, red wine will do.”

“Red wine it is.”

I left the girl there, moving behind the counter into the galley-kitchen. I found a bottle and unscrewed the cap – it wasn’t anything fancy, just the cheapest Tesco could offer.

As I poured the wine, I looked at her perched on the sofa.

I asked, “How come you need a place to stay? Have you and your mother had words?”

Ariana blinked and heaved a sigh, the action stretching the pristine white blouse tight across her chest.

“It’s worse than that,” the girl murmured, throat working as she looked down to her knees.

“What is it?” I asked, walking through to the living room.

I handed Ariana a glass before settling into the arm chair,

“Thanks,” Casibom Ariana said, taking a delicate sip. She then fixed me with her brown eyes, expression forlorn. “Oh, Damian,” she mewled, “I … I don’t know what to say. I know you’ve moved out, but you’re still married to her…”

I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself. “What is it, Arry?” I asked.

“I caught Robert sending her texts. He was sending her pictures…”

A great yawing void opened up in my guts. Even though I knew the answer – why else would Ariana be so upset and looking for somewhere to stay? – I still stupidly asked, “Pictures?”

The girl nodded and gulped at the wine.

“What of, Arry?”

“His penis,” she mumbled. “Oh, Damian,” the girl warbled. “I’m ever so sorry.”

I closed my eyes and bit down on the anger. My wife – albeit estranged – and her own daughter’s boyfriend?

“Oh Jesus,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Can I stay here, Damian? Please.”

As I struggled to absorb the shock, I couldn’t see any alternative. Her best friend was away and she couldn’t go home.

But Arry,” I said, “it’s a small flat. There’s only one bedroom … And that settee isn’t big enough…”

“I know, but I don’t have anyone else. Please, Damian, please … I can’t go back to that house. Not if she’s there…

“I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.”

I closed my eyes, accepting the inevitable. “If anyone’s on the floor, Arry, it’s me.”

“Look, we’re both grown-ups,” my step-daughter said. “So what if we share a bed? It doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

Ariana was right. We were grown-ups. Sharing a bed didn’t have to be awkward or weird. It was a matter of necessity. If my step-daughter stayed, it would have to be the both of us in the same bed.

But I couldn’t help but feel a frisson of carnal desire at the thought of the girl in that bed alongside me. I tried not to look at her tight bust compressed as it was inside her white blouse, an image springing to mind of Ariana in a yellow bikini, its colour emphasising her tan, skin darkened from the holiday sun.

“I suppose not,” I managed to croak, my cock resurgent inside my trousers.

“Thank you,” she breathed settling back in her seat.

My step-daughter crossed her legs, the skirt riding high on her thighs as she sipped wine.

“You don’t know how relieved I am, Damian. If you hadn’t let me stay, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a casual air I most certainly wasn’t feeling at the time.

Ariana swigged at the wine, swallowing at least half a glass.

“I don’t believe my mother,” she said. “What an old slag … I can’t believe she got photos of Robert’s thing.”

I winced at the reminder, going through a whole gamut of emotions until I realised it really wasn’t my business. Not anymore. Not since my soon-to-be ex-wife caught me in an ill-advised affair. And it had all been my fault, a mid-life crisis so clichéd I felt my cheeks warm with chagrin whenever I thought about the stupid things I’d done.

I drained off my own glass and looked at the girl. “If you don’t mind, Arry, I’d rather not know any more.” I pointed to her near-empty glass. “Do you want a top up?”

My step-daughter nodded. “Yes please.”

She drank what was left in the glass and leaned forward to pass it to me, then said something which had me sucking in a lungful of air, panic squeezing my guts.

“Do you mind if I watch the news? I want to see what’s going on with the elections…”

Too late, I turned to stop her, the awful realisation a punch to the stomach.

“Oh God!” Ariana exclaimed, mouth hanging open.

The remote control was in her hand. She had it pointed at the television, the blonde frozen in time looking back over one shoulder, the man in the film presenting his cock to her body.

“Oh Jesus … Damian, I…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry…”

“Ariana!” I cried. “Turn it off. Turn it off now.”

“I’m trying,” she told me, pointing the device while pressing at buttons. “What are you watching?” she gasped.

Ariana gave it up, the lewd scene there on the screen as an accusation.

My step-daughter gaped at me, eyes round as she asked, “Were you looking at that when I arrived?”

“It’s nothing,” I said as I strode out of the kitchen to grab the remote out of her hand. “It doesn’t concern you.”

The image on the screen turned to BBC News, one of the talking heads blathering on.

“I’m sorry,” murmured the girl. “You’re right. It’s none of my business. Please don’t be angry with me. I wasn’t to know.”

I saw her look of concern, the girl’s expression going a long way to displace the embarrassment as she went on to mumble, “I can still stay, can’t I, Damian? You’re not going to make me leave, are you?”

I gulped down on the mortification. “Ah, no, of course not,” I said. “Please, just watch the news if that’s what you want. I’ll pour the wine. And what about food? Would you like something to eat? I Casibom Giriş could make us something here, or we could go out…?” I was babbling to move past the moment as soon as we could.

My step-daughter opted for the latter, then sat and watched television while I took myself off to the shower. I muttered to myself as the water sprayed over me, cursing the circumstances which had led to Ariana busting me for watching porn.

Then I thought of her mother and boyfriend, my heart swelling with concern for the girl. She might have been twenty-three years old, but seeing something like that on her own mother’s phone must have come as a hell of a shock.

“It’s only a few days,” I said to myself, imagining Ariana would move on to Sarah’s when her friend returned home. “We’ll muddle along okay for a week or so…”

*

The first night passed.

By tacit agreement we avoided any conversation about Ariana’s mother. To my relief, the girl also steered clear of the porn incident, our talk moving around her blossoming career at the bank, future plans for my business, and my next step up the property ladder.

“The flat is just until I get myself sorted,” I told her, then skated as close as we’d get to mentioning my wife by adding, “Once the dust has settled after the divorce.”

We ate at Pizza Express, with Ariana in tight jeans and a skimpy bootlace blouse, her lithe figure and elfin prettiness drawing a few looks.

Then, later on, after de-caf back at the flat, we made our preparations for bed.

I used the en-suite bathroom first: showering and shaving last thing at night, as was my habit. I usually sleep naked, but with my step-daughter in bed with me it most definitely wouldn’t be appropriate, so a pair of sports shorts had to pass for pyjamas.

For her part, Ariana slipped under the quilt after going through her ablutions. To bed she wore a pair of boy-shorts knickers and one of my tee-shirts. I tried not to look at her legs, but it was impossible not to.

Ariana sat on the sheet and said, “This bed is huge.”

I replied with, “Good thing it is. We don’t want to all squashed up together, do we?”

My step-daughter shrugged. “Touching by accident doesn’t count.”

Concerned, I asked her, “Should I shove a pillow between us? No-man’s land, so-to-speak.”

Ariana trilled a laugh, her long hair loose as she shook her head side-to-side. “There’s no need for that. Don’t worry. We’ll be all right as we are.”

Sleep came after I’d lain awake for at least half-an-hour, my mind going over the thing with Robert and Ariana’s mother. Then I thought about the girl seeing the porn. I stifled a groan and turned onto my side, facing away from Ariana while I counted deep breaths and sleep finally took me.

*

She was in the bathroom when my alarm woke me at six. I heard the disconcerting sound of my step-daughter making water, the idea of her pissing into the bowl, knickers taut between her legs, made me hard.

The toilet flushed and I listened to the girl as she showered, my hand going to my cock after I’d shrugged the shorts off completely.

It was quick and very intense. I tugged at myself and, doing my utmost to think up another lewd fantasy, my mind insisted on drifting towards Ariana.

I saw her as she’d been the previous night, ready for bed in her boy-shorts and tee-shirt, the glimpse I had of her legs and round buttocks coming to mind.

I knew it was wrong to picture the girl as I did, but in my head she looked at me and peeled off the tee-shirt, her breasts high and tight on her chest.

“Let’s sleep in the nude,” the fantasy breathed, chestnut hair framing her face. “And if we touch in the night…”

She then giggled and winked and hooked her thumbs into the waist of her knickers.

And that’s when I grunted and let fly with an outflow of semen, tugging my dick as the hot stuff erupted, a groan coming out despite my efforts to hold in the noise.

There was a moment of panic when the sound of the shower ceased abruptly. There was cum all over my stomach and chest, the gloop sliding over my ribs. The shorts were all I had to hand, a mostly ineffectual mop, but which had to suffice under those desperate circumstances.

“Morning!” my step-daughter said, a towel wrapped round her. “I love that shower,” she told me, rolling her eyes in appreciation.

“Sleep well?” I asked, the cover up to my neck, the sodden shorts on the floor by the bed.

Ariana nodded. “Actually, yes. Went out like a light. Must be because I feel safe and secure in bed with you…”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so said nothing at all. Besides, it was a battle to not ogle my step-daughter’s thighs, the towel falling just low enough to cover her modesty. I had a fleeting moment to wonder if she kept her muff trimmed, and then panic set in when she moved to the bed, a frown corrugating her forehead.

“Weren’t you wearing these in bed?” Ariana asked, bending to pick up my shorts.

I gasped out a, “No,” as Casibom Güncel Giriş she grabbed at the clothing.

“Are you naked–?” Ariana began, then went round eyed, her mouth falling open. “They’re all soggy,” she said, which was followed up by a “Eeuw, is that … is it…? Oh my GOD!” my step-daughter cried, dropping the cum-soaked bundle to the floor.

Her stare confronted me, my cheeks burning hot.

“I’m sorry,” I coughed, shame a hot rush rising within. I started to babble, trying to make her understand. “I’m on my own … It doesn’t mean anything.”

My step-daughter just kept on staring, the shock on her face.

“It’s my fault,” the girl eventually said. “I shouldn’t have asked if I could stay. I’m obviously getting in the way.”

Suddenly, her good opinion of me was of utmost importance. I didn’t want her to leave, at least not under these circumstances. As unpalatable as the subject was, I knew we had to talk it through. I’d be hugely embarrassed, and so would she very probably, but I couldn’t let her go without clearing the air. How could we face one another in the future if this awful incident led to Ariana’s departure.

The thought stumbled and whirled, all of it going through my head in a matter of seconds.

I heaved a sigh and sat up in the bed, cover falling down to my stomach.

“Ariana, I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault at all, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go. Can’t we just talk about this? I’d hate for you to think I’m a disgusting old perv. It … It’s just nature, isn’t it? I mean, everyone does it.”

My step-daughter blinked while shaking her head, eyes fixed on my face. She gazed at me for several long moments. I had no idea what was going through her mind during that time, but it seemed to me she was about to flee from the room. I had visions of her packing her bag and escaping, of her running from the flat and being too embarrassed to speak to me ever again.

“Ariana,” I said, “you don’t have to go.”

After what felt like an age, the girl finally spoke. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Are you staying? Will you be coming back here tonight?”

To my surprise, Ariana grinned. “Why? Do you have to get your timing right?”

I blinked, not understanding at first. Then the penny dropped and I felt my face burning hotter. “I won’t be looking at porn.”

“I’m sorry,” my step-daughter continued. “I shouldn’t joke about it.” She pouted, eyes turned to the ceiling. “Yes, I’ll be back later tonight.”

I steeled my resolve and said, “Shall I pick up a couple of bottles of wine – or perhaps some lemonade to go with the vodka? I’d appreciate it if we could talk about … well, what’s happened. I don’t want it to be big unspeakable issue between us.”

“It isn’t an issue for me,” said the girl on a shrug. “It was a shock to see the television last night … And picking up your shorts…”

Ariana glanced at the offending article next to the bed.

“I didn’t expect them to be soaked in spunk. I was just going to offer to put them in the laundry for you.”

I winced at her coarse use of the word, mortification a hot rush.

All I could think of to say was, “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. You were only through there…” I nudged my chin towards the en-suite. “…You could have walked in and caught me.” I rolled my eyes and tried to make light of it. “Now that would have been awkward.”

I saw Ariana glance at the clock on the small set of drawers next to the bed. She said, “I’d better get ready.” Then she looked me in the eyes and added, “The wine and a chat sounds nice, actually. You know,” she went on with a sigh, “I never did say how sorry I am you and my mother split up. I liked you right from the start,” Ariana informed me. “You were always good to me.”

“I liked you too,” I replied, my voice gruff with sudden emotion. “I still do,” I said to the girl.

She nodded and smiled. “Me too.”

My step-daughter moved close to the bed, then caught me off-guard by leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you,” she purred, walking away.

I watched her go, the towel not quite covering the undercurve of her buttocks. All it would take would be a tiny stretch upwards and I’d have seen all of my step-daughter’s intimate places.

Gulping down on the abrupt surge of desire, I reminded myself just who she was. Then, making sure Ariana wasn’t about to return, I threw back the cover and padded barefoot to the bathroom, my cock at half-mast, the long jib arcing down, the end of it gooey with cum.

I showered and covered myself with a towelling robe, then went through for coffee and toast.

“I put the machine on,” my step-daughter informed me. “I assume you still have coffee in the mornings?”

“Uh, yes, thanks,” I managed to say, doing my best not to letch at the girl.

Ariana was ironing a blouse, dressed in a fresh pair of boy-shorts underwear and bra, the shape of her body making my cock thicken and grow. The towels were laid across the kitchen counter.

I gulped at the sight of her flat stomach, a jewel decorating her navel.

She noticed me looking and said, “Is everything all right, Damien?”

The lie was quick off my tongue: “I was just wondering when you had your belly-button pierced.”

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