8 comments/ 120700 views/ 46 favorites Stepdaughter's Valentine's Treat By: sirhugs "I know you want to see as much of your daughter during her winter break as possible, but I already booked a get away cabin ski package for Valentine's day." "Well, I'm sorry it is the same time. Tell you what -- phone the resort and see if she can come along. That will be even more fun than Christmas - without the distraction of a bunch of other kids around, we can really have family time." My heart sank, then did a few gymnastic moves in my chest. My brain was playing cinematic flashbacks of my first encounter with my stepdaughter on Christmas Eve, or more properly the wee hours of Christmas day, of her kissing me under the mistletoe; of making out like we were teenagers - though, at eighteen, Emma still was one - of her playing with my cock; her first time touching a real one. Then she had taken me in her mouth, sucking me until I exploded. I had wanted to return the favour, to taste her virgin clit, but she had been in a hurry for me to deflower her, right there on the floor by the Christmas tree. I still owed her that cunt lapping, and still had hopes of taking her anal virginity, but the hustle and bustle of her short Christmas break had kept her too busy for alone time with her stepdad. We had discretely texted and chatted since -- I knew she was saving her ass for me, though she was fucking college boys, and had sucked one prof. What I did not know was whether her Mom had found out about my taboo infidelity. If it wasn't bad enough that I cheated, I had to do it with her daughter. My heart sank every time I realized the trouble that might cause. I love my wife. Plus, she is my boss in her Dad's company, and in this economy, I did not want to lose my job and have to start over selling odd lots over the phone or worse yet, a jobber hustling product from gas station to corner store. My brain understood logically that Emma likely would come home for the summer, but my lusty devil in the base of the brain rationalized that summer offered the perfect combination of space and opportunity so that I could find time to fulfil my unrequited desires, but avoid situations where my transgressions might be revealed. A week in close quarters in the snow country would be just the opposite -- all the desire would bubble to the surface, and was likely to explode at the worst possible moment. I had no chance though to avoid the disaster - my wife wasn't leaving the room until I called the lodge. Then when they said that they were sold out and no two bedroom units were available, she told me to arrange an extra ski package for Emma, who could easily sleep on the couch in the cabin. She's the boss. I did as instructed. As soon as I hung up the phone though she saw my pout and asked what was wrong. "I had planned this as a romantic interlude," I covered up. "Tough to do that with Emma around." "There will be a wall between our room and her, and a door on the bathroom. Plus I'm sure she'll find lots of kids her age to hang around with. We'll have lots of opportunity." Her eyes travelled downward at that moment from my face to my groin, where she immediately noticed the erection that I had grown recalling my experience with Emma, which had solidified even harder when my wife spoke of fucking in the shower with Emma just outside. "Someone is still excited," she purred kittenishly. We had been fuck buddies for years before getting married, and she had lost none of her enthusiasm. Leaning in toward me, her lips met mine as her hand stroked my shaft through my sweatpants. While her tongue wrestled its way inside my mouth, pushing past my teeth, she moved her hand up to caress my hairy belly, and effortlessly slid inside the waistband of the sloppy Saturday sweats, cupping my hardness in her palm. I could feel her braless nipples rock hard against my chest, separated only by our thin T-shirts. I was glad that her face was flush to mine, because I was sure I was blushing at the mental comparison of how that sensation so closely matched a moment with Emma, while she still had her nightshirt on. The recollection had the benefit of making my balls tighten up against my taint, and my helmet swell, my piss hole gaping open, leaking pre-cum onto my wife's hand, which felt so remarkably like her daughter's. My hands grasped her shirt on either side, ready to rip it if she didn't stop kissing long enough for me to remove it. She would need to break the lip lock anyway, as I was determined to taste her nipples, to kiss down her belly, and eat her clit. My wife, however, had other ideas. She took a half step back, still holding the kiss, but angling her body, and then she moved her mouth, licking down my throat, lifting my shirt to bathe my chest in her saliva, planting a forest of tiny pecks around my navel. The entire time, her fist pumped my shaft. I ached so urgently that only the tightness of her grip held me back from premature ejaculation. One deft twist of her wrist exposed my groin fully to the air, but in an instant, her mouth danced through my hair and bounced up over the top of my cock. Her tongue flitted around the rim at the bottom of my swollen head briefly, more confidently than anything Emma had accomplished in her maiden efforts. My wife licked up all the seeping precum, and teasingly stabbed the tip of her tongue right into my opening, a trick she knew I enjoyed. She was so expert that, in that moment, I wondered why I had ever considered risking loosing her for Emma's tentative talents. Which thought exploded in my mind as my wife's mouth closed over my cock head, her lips sliding effortlessly along the silky outer sheath of my shaft. One flick of her fingernail against my scrotum triggered my seed to explode, flooding her mouth with great gobs of goo. Her fingers stayed busy, kneading my balls, milking all of my seed up and out my shaft, her lips remaining tight until my spasms reduced to trickles. Then, she opened her mouth, leaving my shrinking cock head laying on her tongue, letting me watch as she caught the final gasps of my climax, lapping up the seepage. With a huge grin, my sperm glistening on her teeth, my wife sat back up and grabbed handfuls of my hair, pulling my mouth to her lips, sharing my seed between us. I remembered the first time she had done that, in a coat check room at a sales convention, how she had broken the kiss and whispered, "sealing our love", just as she did now. This time, however, I felt a surge of guilt at having been blown by her teenage daughter. The first time she had said it, she had giggled afterwards and assured me that she was just kidding, that 'a blow job is just a blow job' and she knew the difference between love and lust. We had not been exclusive for quite a while. I wondered how she would react if she found out we were not exclusive again. "Don't worry, honey, it will be fun," she said, feeling my fretfulness, but misinterpreting it. "Emma is a good girl. She'll have fun too." Just what sort of fun Emma would expect was my worry. The days passed quickly before our Valentine's treat, as my wife liked to refer to the trip. We both put extra energy and effort into work to make sure that everything was in order. Our sex during that time period was hurried, nervous, routine married fucking. Which was so unlike our usual voracious appetites that my wife felt that she had to assure me that her Dad would cover for us, that the trip would not be interrupted, saying "and even missionary position fucking with you is so much better than any guy I've ever been with before. Your cock is the perfect fit for my cunt, it throbs just right as you fill me up with your offerings, and it's not every man who not only goes down after coming, but does it with such enthusiasm." Once again, she misunderstood why I was nervous; that as I licked my wife my mind turned to thoughts of tasting Emma's young cunt overflowing with my seed. And I supposed the sex wasn't all that typical of married couples -- at least if you believe the mutterings of my sales staff, who thought carpet munching should be reserved for lesbian sex scenes in the porn they charged to their hotel rooms, and then had to reimburse the company, while begging me not to tell their wives. My standard "we all have our secrets" answer had become more true in this new year. I knew that my wife loved me, but I feared what Valentine's day might bring - and as fate would have it, Emma's travel arrangements ended up such that she would arrive at the cabin right on February 14th. Her mother was disappointed that Emma could not join us earlier, but the young woman had school activities to finish up during the first part of her winter break. So we arrived at the resort as a couple, like we had originally planned. Though we partook of the full range of activities -- alpine skiing, cross country skiing, snowshoeing, snowmobiling, hiking - they were just interludes between the vigorous athletic sex that seemed to start the moment we arrived in our cabin, and stop only when we left. Heck, we even got up to some risky play on the chairlift, on the back of the sleigh during a Sunday evening hay ride and on the deck overlooking the frozen lake which was the focal point of the resort for summer fun. In fact, the sex had started on the plane trip to the resort. Though we were both veteran travellers, we had discussed often how neither of us had joined the mile high club. On this plane, we had seats near the rear, where there was a washroom. Both stews were busy starting drink service from the front of the plane, so after my wife giggled, whispered "did you know I'm not wearing panties?" and dragged my fingertips across her wet labia to prove it, we scooted quickly into the lavatory. She did not have to touch my pants to know that my cock was hard and ready, threatening to burst my zipper. She went in first, pirouetting like a very horny ballerina to snug her ass into the space between the sink and bulkhead, tugging me close to her. Our lips locked in a bruisingly urgent kiss, hands exploring like high schoolers. I grasped her ass in both hands and lifted her up so that I could run my teeth along her throat until I reached her blouse. Her hands quickly fumbled the buttons open, allowing my lips access to her engorged nipples. I alternately sucked each tit while her fingers found the button at my waist, loosening my pants. I continued nibbling as her hand started stroking my hardness. "You're so...big, so firm, so ready," she moaned, in that voice that sounded so much like her daughter, who once again, I found myself thinking about as I made love to my wife. Part of me remained remote from the act, wondering whether what I had done with Emma was also making love, or just fucking. Soon her stroking had achieved a furious pace. And she shifted her ass in my grip so that her naked pussy lips were rubbing against the tip of my cock. "Fuck me now, fuck me hard, I need to come," she sighed, sharping my focus back purely into that moment. I had to stop sucking her nipples and gasp for air as she guided my length into her wetness. We were both crazy with desire as I started slowly driving in and out of her by rocking up and down off my toes. I pushed hard, burying my full pulsating piston into her, which, combined with the taboo of fucking just a few feet away from a plane full of people, quickly pushed her over the edge "Feels sooo good..." she muttered into my ear dreamily, and then nibbled my lobe. Her cunt was pushing down on my cock and at the same time her pelvic muscles were clenching around my shaft. "Now you have to fill me up," she whispered, somehow making my turn still about her. She grabbed her own nipples and twisted them, triggering another climax. Then we were both completely lost in the passionate intensity of the moment. I felt every muscle in her body stiffen and release as she climaxed yet again just as my load of milky sweet seed surged up my shaft and gushed out of my tip inside my wife. Her climax seemed to last forever as we came together. "It's like I can feel every drop as it explodes out of your cock." she breathed as her orgasm slowed and I expelled one final spurt into her. She sealed the moment with another deep kiss, and as she straightened her clothes she said "If you think that is great, imagine our Valentine's treat." Then she kissed my nose playfully, as if for emphasis, while I was fumbling my softening cock back into my pants so that we could slink back to our seats, hopefully before the drinks cart arrived. Once again, I could not help but notice the playfulness which Emma had inherited. With that start, it really took on the flavour of a second honeymoon. The shuttle bus provided to the resort was too public for more than hand holding and meaningful gazes, but every time our eyes met, she broke out in giggles. Once, she playfully nibbled at my ear. We barely got checked in before she ran to our cabin, started stripping, and threw herself onto the bearskin rug in front of the hearth. Fortunately, the resort had thought to have a fire going for our arrival. "I didn't have a chance to properly clean your cock on the plane," she said. "I hope if anybody caught the scent, they weren't too jealous." I obeyed as she crooked a finger in the universal come hither gesture. She had an easier time with my pants than aboard the plane. My cock was surging semi-hard again already when it flopped loose and she wasted no time slurping my full length deep into her throat. After a few quick head bobs though, she backed off and started slowly, carefully, laving up down and all around my shaft, paying extra attention to the area below the head, and the ridge where shaft and helmet joined. Emma had nowhere near the cock sucking skills of her mother, though she seemed to have inherited the passion. Again, I had to wonder why I was thinking about my stepdaughter at such moments, and worried about how she might impact our Valentine's treat. But also once again, the sensuality before me washed away the worries. I had not had a chance to lick Emma's sweet young cunt, but I loved to eat her mother, even with a slightly less than fresh load of my cream inside that crevice. Since my wife still had no panties on, it was simple for me to slowly ease myself to the floor in stages so that she could adjust, never entirely stopping her oral ministrations, but accommodating my returning the favour. Before long, we were snuggled on the rug in a sixty-nine position, me mostly on top, but tangled up. I lapped at her hard pearly nubbin, making it dance with my tongue just like her lips were dancing around my cock. I reached through her shirt to toy with her nipples as much as I could without stopping fucking her with my face, working my tongue deep into the darkest recesses of her cunt, searching out every morsel of my remnants, finding more as she got wetter and wetter and the dried bits moistened. I did not stop because she had a shivering orgasm, in spite of the fire's heat. She had long since licked my cock clean, but did not stop there. I was steely hard again, and she treated me to a good old fashioned tea bagging, taking me so far into her throat that my balls were smacking her cheeks as she writhed on the rug. As warm as the fire made the cabin, it was not as hot as her mouth, so I noticed immediately when she eased her mouth off my cock, which by then was aching for release. I paused with a couple of fingers poised within her labia, where I had been about to wriggle them to add to her pleasure. She shifted smoothly and swiftly, her skirt still bunched around her waist, her lower abdomen now pressed against the back of the bear's head, her naked buttocks presented to me. "Fuck me from behind," she moaned, "you know how much I love it when you enter me from there." I complied, starting my rubbing the tip of my cock around her lower labia, making sure my flesh was good and moist with her wetness as I pressed slowly into her on that first thrust. It took all my self-restraint not to impale myself immediately with my raging hard-on. Her back arched and I took two handfuls of her dangling tits as I slowly pushed deeper within her womb. My fucking her daughter had been on a hearth rug, but although I had fantasized briefly about taking Emma doggy-style, I had deflowered her in missionary position. Fucking my wife from behind made me wonder once again what taking Emma in a similar style might be like. I had compared Emma silently to her Mom while fucking the daughter, and now, I was doing the opposite. I felt secret shame knowing that my cock pulsed harder because of it. My wife squeezed her pussy around my shaft but I slid back until only the head weighed in her opening, and then I drove back in swiftly, burying myself deep, right to the root. "Is this what you want?" I grunted. She fucked her hips up against me in silent response. My balls started slapping against the flesh where her wet pussy lips curved up to meet her ass, her thighs slamming up to meet mine. I released her tits and gripped her hips, pile-driving our bodies together. I felt her climax around my cock but just kept going, once again moving my hands to her tits, kneading them in my fingers, feeling her rhythm alter to match my tempo. I kept up the hard fucking, adjusting my grasp on her tits, capturing her nipples between my fingers, squeezing them hard, which made her thrash wildly from side to side. I pushed the weight of my body down onto her and gently nibbled the back of her neck just above the top of her spine. "Oh fuck me! I'm cumming so hard!" she screamed, her entire body convulsing uncontrollably. "Oh, fuck! Don't stop!" In that instant, I realized that once Emma arrived, not only would fucking in front of the fire be out, but her mother would have to climax more quietly. I released one breast, my hand sliding along her ribs until I curled it under her body, touching her clit. Her orgasms were coming in waves by then, but this triggered a sudden blast of intensity which I felt clamping around my cock. One last pinch of her bud. Her pussy spasming around my cock and I pumped another blast of sperm inside of her. Spent, I soon softened and rolled off of her, and we both must have fallen asleep, because the next thing we knew, it was morning and we had spent the night in front of the dying fire, on the bear skin rug. All week, my wife and I had great fun. I kept asking if the latest kink was my Valentine's treat, and she kept saying "It isn't Valentine's day yet." I could not help but wonder how Emma's presence might crimp her Mom's style in offering me a treat. Only in that dark basement of my brain did I allow myself to hope that Emma WAS the treat, but every time that thought appeared, it was squelched by logic arguing that my wife had given no sign of knowing about my carnal knowledge of her daughter, and had given no hint of offering any further extra-marital taboo sex as a treat. That internal debate always left me bummed out, convinced that Emma's presence would somehow ruin everything. I never was much of a poker player, and wore my concern on my face. This led my wife to think I was not having enough fun, so she kept on adding to our activity list, and to our sexual smörgåsbord. "You're like a big baby boy who can't wait 'til Christmas for your present," she said on Tuesday after we had gotten each other off with our fingers under the table in the dining room. That just brought back mixed feelings from memories of Emma on Christmas Eve, of how she had been such an incredible gift to me, but she had throughout insisted that I was the gift to her. No matter how much logic argued that my wife and I exchanged gifts sexually just as enthusiastically as I had with Emma, my internal skeptic argued that the trade-offs in the marriage had become routine, boring -- that the very thrill seeking we shared had become a stale bit of play acting, a search for something we were missing. Stepdaughter's Valentine's Treat What was missing of course was my full attention to my wife, as throughout the week, Emma kept intruding into my thoughts. It did not help that an hour never passed that my wife did not remark about Emma, wishing her daughter was there already; that a particular activity would be so much fun for Emma; pointing out young men that Emma might find attractive. Every mention of my stepdaughter's name made my confused heart ache in my chest, but my cock ached in a more solid fashion - the mention of her name always gave me instant wood. In retrospect, that was a big factor in how I couldn't stop sexing up my wife, seeking a release for that hormonal buzz. By the time Wednesday night rolled around, the fact that Thursday was Valentine's day had been submerged by my wife's excitement about seeing her daughter the next day. I reconciled myself to being an afterthought on what should be the most romantic highlight of our year. Then I decided that if my Valentine's day risked being a disaster, I should take full advantage of the night before. Not that it was something I had planned out. Like my encounter with Emma, or my quickie Vegas wedding, all the best things in my life happen spontaneously. Dinner had been down at the main lodge, where the focus was already anticipating the big night of romantic candlelit meals the next night. I realized that mine might be the only dinner for three in the big room that evening. But the night before the big day was just a simple buffet, with beef carved off the bone, which I think was trendy in the sixties, but fit the time warp aspect of the rustic resort. I wish I could tell you that we randomly shared a table with a couple in their twenties, and that after too many bottles of wine, we all ended up naked in a hot tub together. Instead, our table mates were an older couple. She was a Lutheran pastor, he was a retired school teacher. It was fun to learn that they were on their honeymoon, having discovered their love late in life, and cooing at each like doves, but my cock never twitched once, and my wife's hands never groped my lap. We said good night to our new acquaintances as soon as dessert was over, and made our way toward our cabin along the trail, pausing occasionally to admire the starlit sky. "I love you," my wife said simply, as she squeezed my hand while looking heavenward. I bent so that my lips met hers. Our tongues intertwined, her breasts pressed against my chest, making me imagine I could feel the excitement of her nipples right through our abundant layers of clothing. She broke free first, but never let go of my hand, tugging me after her as she raced reckless through the night, as if our cabin was a prize which might vanish if we dallied another second. By the time her boot landed on the deck, we were moving at a sprint, and she did not pause until we were inside. As soon as the door was behind her, she let go of my hand, because she needed both to strip out of her sensible clothing, each item tossed more wildly than the last. I was frozen in the doorway, still fully dressed, when she reached the washroom, turned on the shower, and turned back to look at me, with a huge mock pout. "Don't make me come over there and strip you too,." My cock was already rigid, without a single thought of Emma. "Don't need to ask me twice," was what I said, "but I don't think you want me in that shower with these clothes on..." By the time I said that, I was in the bathroom, the steam warming my nose, but all my clothing except my boots still in place. My wife, not normally the servile sort, was forced to strip me if she wanted me to fuck her. This subtle role shift seemed to excite her greatly. Her talented fingers flew over buttons and zippers. Her even more talented tongue bathed each bit of my flesh as it was exposed. My cock was the last thing she uncovered. My flannel shirt was tossed over a towel rack. My pants were a puddle at my feet. But my conservative white briefs were taut, distorted by my tumescence. She hooked a finger in the elastic above the point of each of my hip bones, her nose grazing my navel, her warm breath ruffling my abdominal fur. But then she shook her lovely head, maybe a millimeter to each side, and dropped her hands, before reaching up and back to grasp my glutes, holding my groin firmly to her face. Her head moved, her tongue licking all around my firm cock through the cotton. As she worked, her nose grazed against that covered flesh, until without warning, the plum coloured engorged head poked free. She pulled back for a moment, her hands dropping onto her knees as she sat back on her haunches. She was grinning up at me, cheeks rosy and eyes bright, not like a middle aged mother, not like my boss, not like my wife, but like a school girl. Like Emma - in that instant, she looked as amazed and excited by my cock as my stepdaughter had on Christmas Eve. I did not say that, of course, I just stood there as she rose up and licked the underside of my helmet, trying not to compare my wife's blow job to the one I had enjoyed from Emma. To this day, I could not tell you which was more enthusiastic. My wife's was certainly more experienced, but something about the familiarity made it seem practised rather than fresh. As she bobbed up and down, my entire length now out of my underwear, I missed the excitement of knowing how much extra pleasure Emma had gotten out of the novelty of the adventure. The upside to this distracted state of mind was that I did not quickly blow my wad into my wife's mouth, which seemed to please her, because after rolling her tongue up and around my shaft for several minutes, and tasting my precum, she grasped me firmly in her fist and stood, allowing her naked body to slide up mine, her diamond hard nipples adding extra frisson. A few steps and we were engulfed by the mist of the shower. She stood directly beneath the spray, and released my aching cock so that she could lean against the wall, her hands braced, her ass thrust back against me. I stepped closer, my erection tight into her ass crack. My hands reached around and firmly kneaded her dangling tits, just teasing her nipples as her hips started rotating, grinding her cleft against my cock. She was panting with excitement as my fingers finally gripped her nipples, tugging them harder than I think I had ever done before. "Oh, fuck, yesss," she moaned, clearly not upset. "Can you come on my back? I want you to mark me. And then i want to kneel here and lick your cock until it shrinks enough for you to... " Her next words were lost in her climax, but as she settled down moments later, she repeated them, still short of breath. "...I want you to piss on me, to mark me as your territory." Once more, I was a mess of confusion and arousal, but at least in that moment it was not about my lust for my stepdaughter. For a few seconds, I had assumed that she wanted me to fuck her ass, which she had always told me was cherry - one of her earliest boyfriends had tried to stick his fat cock up her dirt road without proper lubrication, and she had been tuned off anal intercourse ever since, though she certainly loved being stimulated by smaller objects. I also realized that the desire to be marked likely meant that, on at least one of her frequent business trips, my wife had cheated on me. That seemed the only logical reason for her to feel the need to be owned. Sadness stabbed my chest, ignoring the hypocrisy of my having cheated, and with her daughter. My hardness started to evaporate. "Too kinky for you?" she growled, her lust bringing out her dominant side again. "Nothing is too kinky for me," I heard myself reply before I had a chance to self edit. I thought of Emma as I thrust my hips against her ass, rubbing my cock so deep into the cleft that I might as well have been ass fucking her. I could feel her flow coating my balls. I imagined that it was Emma's ass I was pushing up against. Emma would let me take her ass cherry, I thought. As I pictured flooding Emma's bowels with my seed, I exploded, my offering spurting up and out into the warm mist of the shower, but most of it coming with enough energy to curve across and land on the dimple of flesh at the base of my wife's spine, that gentle curve where she loved me to rub as we fucked, guaranteed to make her come. This night, no hands were needed - just the sensation of my goo coating her skin was all that it took to trigger another scream of climax. She moved one hand from the wall to her clit to maintain that wave, and I helped by letting go of one tit so that I could massage my semen deep into her back. After a long chain of orgasms, my wife finally silently sank to the tiled shower floor, the water cascading around her, her hair plastered to her face. She looked innocent, angelic, like her daughter. But I knew that they were both naughty wenches who loved my cock. As promised, she reached up and took my semi-hard member in her fingers, lifting the tip to her lips and started to lick, but at the first touch, my bladder released and instead of her cleaning my cock of sweat and salt, she received a full blast of golden elixir. We had never tried water sports, never even discussed them, so I was a bit shocked when she hungrily opened her mouth and swallowed the entire stream like she had just crossed a long dusty dry desert. The wine and water at dinner had filled me up, and soon it was running down her chin and dribbling on her tits, droplets dangling like diamonds on her nipples. Remembering her desire to be marked, I took my shaft in my hand and directed my spray away from her lips, pissing down on top of her hair, the urine running in rivulets down her face, her tongue flitting from side to side to capture as much as she could. Before I was finished, her entire body had been showered in gold. A few final spurts bounced off her tiny nose. All the while, she smile up at me. Finally, she brushed my hand away and grasped my shrinking organ in her fingers again, leaning forward to lovingly lick up the last few drops leaking from my slit. "I love you, I love your cock, I even love your piss. " she sighed. "Was that my Valentine's treat?" I asked. "I don't think it is even midnight yet." "No, tomorrow, I have something very special planned." The demon in my skull hoped for something special with Emma, regardless of what my wife had planned. By the time we towelled off and staggered over to the bed, collapsing together like spoons in a drawer, my cock was erect from thoughts of Emma, but my wife was soundly sleeping before I even pressed my flesh firmly against her back. Wednesday's special activities must have tired us out more than usual, because on Thursday, Valentine's day, we did not wake with the morning sun bathing us through the cabin's huge picture window, like we had each prior day. Instead, there was a knock on the door -- the wide open bedroom door to be precise. "Too horny to even lock the outside cabin door?" I heard Emma giggling, my eyes still only half open. I hoped her mother was more awake, and that the remark was directed in to her, not to me. It was way more openly sexual than anything Emma had said to me in her mother's presence at Christmas. Her tone of voice and sprinkle of laughter reminded me instantly of how she had acted while seducing me during "the Santa hour" as Christmas Eve had turned to Christmas morning. Just thinking about that event made images of her sexual ecstasy flash through my mind, travel down my spine, and stiffen my cock. My wife was mumbling something sleepily in reply to her daughter. Part of the reason I could not make out the words was that I was busy realizing that my surging shaft was grasped in my wife's hand. Whether she had rolled over in her sleep and grabbed that handful, or had been awake, slowly warming my weapon for a quick bout of wake up sex, I had no clue. Not that it mattered much, except perhaps as to how much Emma had seen, which in turn might influence her mother's mood. "You do have a habit of turning up unexpectedly," my wife muttered to her daughter. I froze for a moment - the opportunity for my taboo encounter at Christmas having been triggered by Emma catching an early flight, arriving without her mother or I knowing she was in the house - but then realized that the early arrival was a known fact, but this did not necessarily mean that she was also aware of my infidelity. Fortunately, the awkwardness of Emma standing in the doorway excused my freezing up. "I'd offer to go for a walk while you two start your Valentine's day off properly, but it's frigid cold out this morning, plus I need a shower," Emma replied. I thought she might have winked when she said "properly". Her leering grin was so obvious that its ghost lingered Cheshire catlike in the air even after she spun out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her. The latch had not even clicked, and my wife was fisting my cock with more intensity than was typical for a morning. I lay between the sheets, briefly wondering if the added excitement was the day, the interruption, or some combination of both. By the time my wife rolled her head onto my shoulder and nibbled my earlobe, so much blood was pulsing into my hard cock that such silly irrelevant thoughts were obsolete. I did not notice whether or not the shower started running right away. "Feel how wet I am," my wife breathed into my ear. "Is that because of last night, or because your daughter just walked in on us?" I took a chance asking. "Maybe a little bit of both?" she chuckled heartily as my fingers found her slit, which really was soaked, and wide open. "You know how I love the risk of an audience," she continued. Indeed, we had fucked at conventions in coat check rooms, and, once, when due to space constraints, everybody was sharing double rooms, with her room mate asleep five feet away. "Maybe part of it is that this is a special day, too?" "Oh, is it? What day is it again?" she giggled, just like her daughter did when being playfully naughty. I think I just imagined an echoing sound from outside the door. "If you make too big a deal of it, you might not get your treat," she teased. "You mean, this isn't it?" I asked as I slid two, then three, fingers into her slit, my thumb bumping against her engorged clit with each stroke, and dragging along her swollen inner labia on the downward path. "Not while Emma might pop in to ask about brunch at any second." She moaned as my fingers thrust deep into her cunt, her hips bouncing up off the mattress. My little finger slid under her butt, instinctively teasing her anal cleavage. Her fingers were too small to do the same for me, but she played with my scrotum. The shower was running, but I was sure that I heard a shuffle of feet followed by heavy breathing just outside our door. My attention was quickly diverted, though, as my wife twisted her body under the sheet, her mouth trailing down my chest, her lips wrapping around my cock. I felt rather than saw her leg fly over my head as her groin aligned with my face. My wet fingers had slid effortlessly out of her flesh, but served perfectly to grasp her hips and steady her gyrating pelvis enough for my teeth to tease her labia. My wife opened her jaw, mouth half way down my shaft, to emit a heavy groan, a typical mix of protest and pleasure from my heavenly pain slut. I hoped that she was too engrossed to notice the softer moan I detected from the other side of the door. To reduce that risk, I raised one hand and slapped her ass, counting out a half dozen spanks. Her hips jumped higher with each one, and drove down harder on to my waiting tongue. She continued her half of the sixty-nine by bathing my balls with her tongue while fisting my shaft, her fingers striking the ridge under my cock head harder with each stroke. At the final slap of my palm on her quivering rear, I curled my fingers, grasping her downward curving flesh, tugging open that forbidden cleavage. Her movements had shifted her body so that I found myself licking her taint. However, the instant that the tip of my tongue slid into the groove leading to her rosebud, she stiffened, barked a sharp no, and grabbed my hand away from her butt, while repositioning her cunt squarely over my face. "We better hurry, that shower's been running a long time," she said softly, apparently not wanting to discourage me too much. The slowness of her breath indicated that her orgasm must be close. She might be just as excited by me at the proximity of her daughter while we made love, whether or not she knew that Emma was likely still crouched outside the door -- I pictured my stepdaughter stripped naked, ready to bolt to the shower as soon as we climaxed, one hand working her sensitive nipples, the other buried deep in her barely legal cunt, fucking herself as fiercely as I had fucked her with my cock at Christmas. That made me wonder if Emma could successfully bite her cheek to contain her orgasmic cries this time. To help the situation, I started moaning as loudly as I could while still tongue fucking my wife. I also created more noise by pounding against the mattress with my legs. My wife's breathing became a pant. Her body writhed around mine as she achieved climax. At its peak, it was especially intense and it was long-lasting. I could feel her muscles spasming around my tongue as she struggled to ride the waves without ignoring my cock entirely. Her groans echoed in the room. I knew Emma would have heard them even if she was in the shower. As her orgasm began to subside, my wife shifted her attention back to my needs, taking my pulsating organ half way into her mouth, and then bobbing her head, taking a bit more into her mouth each time. Her right fist kept a firm grip on the base of my shaft, her teeth teased the tip when she had just the head resting on her lower lip. Her left hand began kneading my balls, and then she slipped her finger back where she had not allowed me to venture. Her finger was well lubricated and slid smoothly into my ass hole, probing expertly until she stimulated my prostate. At exactly the same moment, she released her grip on my root and closed her lips around the head of my cock. My seed pumped feverishly upward, pumping in bursts into her mouth. She just swallowed and swallowed, and then swallowed some more. Finally, I felt the last languid spurts leaking out of the corners of her mouth onto my flesh. She rolled off me, her head resting on my shoulder as we both tried to catch our breath. I realized that I had been too focused to notice any noise outside the door. Hopefully that was also true of my wife. After a few minutes, she had enough composure to say, "Emma sure took a long shower. I hope she's left some hot water for us." Just then the water stopped running. I grinned to myself, thinking that Emma must have barely had time to rinse the afterglow off of her loins, and maybe the road dust. At the moment, I realized for the first time that I had not thought to pack a robe for this trip. With Emma at college, I was used to walking from my bedroom to the shower naked, or wearing just my boxers. I glanced around the compact bedroom. No towels on the floor. Not even a jacket to wrap around my waist. Of course I did not care if Emma saw my scuzzy cock through my shorts - she had been up close and personal before -- but her mother might think it was stranger, particularly God forbid, I made eye contact with my stepdaughter then popped wood. There was also the risk of Emma reacting -- she had proved twice now that she was a sexual adventuress. My wife left no time for me to reflect further. She boldly stepped out of bed and opened the door wide. I was covered by the sheet, but my boxers were on the floor. I saw Emma, in the kitchenette which meant that she could see me. Stepdaughter's Valentine's Treat "Hi Mom, I'll toss together a quick brunch while you guys shower -- you better do it together, I don't think I left much hot water," she said, barely finishing before collapsing into a fit of giggles. While she was at least that distracted, I scooped my underwear off the floor and slipped them on. I hoped that my wife did not notice her daughter eying my manhood as it slipped into cover, and swung freely in its semi-erect turgidity as I quick marched to the bathroom. Good thing that in the tiny cabin everything was close. The image of Emma's nipples popping erect under her T-shirt was burnt onto my eyeballs as her mother shut the bathroom door and pressed me up against the wall, her teeth knocking against mine as she kissed me ferociously. Good thing I loved the taste of my own cream. "God, you make me so hot," she panted. "I need your cock in my cunt." She grabbed my meat in one hand, while twisting her body to reach around and turn the shower on. I used that moment to step away from the wall, assuming we would fuck in the shower to use what hot water we had. She had another idea though. As soon as I created a gap from the wall, her arms linked around behind my neck and she jumped up, locking her ankles behind my knees. Her labia rubbed against my underwear until I slipped a hand down to tug them loose, dropping then to the floor. A second later, my wife's wet cunt enveloped my resurgent member. Our fucking was so frantic that there could be no worrying about what Emma might overhear. This fuck though was all about her. I had emptied such a load already that another orgasm would have taken a long time for me. My wife had no such constraint. Afterward, I had to wonder if she had ever fully finished the last climax in the bed, or whether doing her slut walk past her daughter had turned her on afresh. In either case, it only took a few minutes of her sliding up and down my well greased pole, diamond hard nipples dragging along my chest, and then she bit my lower lip as another crescendo wracked her body. As she shook and shivered against me, I staggered toward the shower. She dropped her feet, allowing my cock to fall free, but still trapped against her body, so that we could step into the already tepid spray. A very quick soap up, with no time for play, and we towelled off, emerging wrapped in the fluffy resort cotton, to properly greet my stepdaughter, who had coffee, juice and pancakes in the counter waiting for us. I struggled not to stare at the pokies under her sweater even as her grin dared me to. Although my wife encouraged Emma to go locate some young adults around her own age, to play with, Emma insisted on skiing with us instead. I could tell that my wife had hoped that we might find a spot for another round of sex- she likely wanted me to pump her full of my sperm and then eat her cream-pie, a favourite way for her to prepare for an afternoon nap. Instead we spent a few hours on the slopes, until the lift lines grew tiresome, and a late lunch seemed in order. Every time we lined up for the lift, Emma found a chance to brush her body against mine, casually, so anybody noticing would think it was an accident. An arm one time, the swell of a breast against my back, a bump of our hips. On our last trip up the slope, my wife got seated with a group in front of us. Only Emma and I were on the group of chairs together as we went upward. We had barely left the staging area when I felt her fingers caress my thigh. By the time we were passing the midpoint pylon, her palm was stroking my rapidly hardening cock through my tight ski pants. "Stop that, or someone will notice," I instructed. "So you're not complaining about what I'm doing, you're just afraid Mom will find out?" "Does it feel like I'm unhappy about the attention?" I teased back. "I heard Mom deny you the chance to fuck her ass - you know how much i want you to be the first guy to take that cherry, just like you took my virginity. You'd better do it this trip, though. I've gained a bit of a reputation at school as a slut who likes sex, lots of sex, lots of ways, with lots of guys. It's bound to just be a matter of time until I'm so horny that I let some frat brat or chemistry nerd stick a fat cock up my poop chute. Though I think a musty grad student, or even a prof, might be more gentle for my first. What do you think?" I was reeling from her confession, too boggled to answer. Plus, the whole time she was talking, her hand was massaging my manhood, distracting me from coherent thought. "But what about your Mom?" I wondered, tacitly admitting my desire. "Let me take care of her." Lunch was at the main lodge, and we walked back to the cabin. As we went inside, my wife yawned, and said, "If I'd known the morning would be so energetic, I would have booked our surprise couples massage for 2:00, not 4:30. Oops... I just ruined the surprise, didn't I? I think I'll nap. Wake me at 4:00, please." So that was her big Valentine's treat for me, I surmised, busy wondering if she had arranged it to be an erotic massage, and if so, whether she had found masseurs who would join in - group sex being something we had never tried. My cock quickly swelled at the images this brought into my brain. "I guess Mom wanted to make sure you didn't interrupt her nap," Emma said, nodding toward the closed bedroom door, "and that means she won't be able to help you with that bulge." Her eyes were dancing. If she was a guy and I were a woman, I'd say she was leering at me. I felt like a piece of meat. But, being a guy, I was okay with that. As Emma closed the gap between us, I remembered that she had insisted on getting her Mom a hot chocolate when we had reached the lodge. Had she slipped her Mom a mickey? Was that why she was so tired? Was that what Emma had meant by 'taking care of' her Mom? If so, Emma and I could fuck for couple of hours, with no fear of waking my wife. But I did not dare ask, for fear of spoiling the mood if Emma took the question as an accusation. Taboo sex was turning out to be complicated business. The mood was perfect once I focused on Emma stripping out of her ski vest, sliding her sweater over her head to reveal a very impractical but sexy lace bra. She unbuttoned the top of her spandex pants, causing them to sag open, but not slide down. Before we had gone skiing, we had asked housekeeping to stoke the fire at 1:00, so the cabin was warm, the logs crackling. I stepped closer, grabbing a handful of my stepdaughter's hair, kissing her with unconditional lust, unlike my caution at Christmas, ignoring the fact her Mom was sleeping ten feet away. As we twisted tongues, Emma's hands were busy, freeing my aching member from my clothing, and lovingly stroking my shaft. After a moment of this, she shifted back a half step, and let go of my cock. Her hands lifted up, cupping her tits, lifting them higher than the bra had. I knew what she wanted and buried my face in her cleavage. She forced her mounds tight around my head. While I was occupied, she reached behind herself and released the bra fastener, freeing the tips of her breasts, and I began suckling each nipple in turn, flattening my tongue as I went across from one to the other, and then nibbling the very points. She kept me there until the valley was soaked. If she had not promised anal fucking earlier, I would gladly have fucked that space, happily spewing my seed on those slopes. I made a mental note, just in case I ever had an opportunity. Another thing about taboo fucking, I realized - you never knew when it might happen, or when it might end. I refocused on the task before me. My hands became busy with her pants, sliding them below her hips, allowing me to slip a finger into her lace panties, which I was not shocked to find were already sodden. Her labia were engorged and moisture was gushing from her loins, soaking my hand and her thighs. The bear skin rug was still where it had been when I had fucked her Mom there the first day of our trip, and Emma steered us to it, the smoothness of her moves confirming that she indeed added a great deal of experience in the few weeks she had been back at school. As soon as we found the warm fur, we quickly stripped each other of the rest of our clothes. I lay her back on the rug, her head raised on that of the bear. She raised her knees and I crawled in between. Before I got my Valentine's treat, Emma would get hers - the cunt lapping I had not had time to provide at Christmas. Emma was already wet and gaping open, ready to be eaten. Her hands were kneading her tits, fingers and thumbs twisting her own nipples. I hoped her Mom was sound asleep, because Emma's moaning was loud enough to travel through the thin partition walls, and my tongue had not even touched her flesh. I began with Emma's thighs, cleaning up the fluid that had already coated them, skipping past her honey pot as I switched sides. She writhed, raised her hips, begged me to eat her. My hands slid under her rump, lifting her loins to meet my lips. Emma held my head against her flesh as her juices splashed up and wet my face. I licked up her slit, like a dog slurping water from a dish, and paused, teasing, my warm breath bathing her engorged clit. Emma was ready to put up with that, and roughly shoved my jaw down, my tongue sliding between her labia, fucking her like it was a cock. More aggressive now, playfulness forgotten, I savaged Emma's clit with my lips, stabbing her pink young slit with my stiffened tongue, lapping at her essence as it flows from her loins. Emma's breathing was shallow and rapid, her fluid running in rivulets to her ass. One of my fingers slid along the curve of her ass, no firmer than her Mom's, but less ample. Effortlessly, that digit slipped into Emma's tight ass hole, which was well lubricated from her excitement. I used two fingers next, finger fucking her anus, my tongue still attacking her cunt, soon shifting so that my teeth began to play with her clit. Emma's pelvic muscles clenched and she was completely stiff for a second. Then she began to quake from the climax that was exploding around my finger and mouth, and making her whole body quiver. My mouth remained tight against her pussy until she tugged on my hair both hands and pulled me up face to face. She kissed me fiercely , her tongue tasting at her own juices on my lips. her hands found my stiff cock, stroking it, caressing the swollen head. "Thanks for the Valentine's treat," she giggled as her spasms subsided,"Now it's time for your treat." With that, she released my cock and pushed my bulk up off her body just enough so that she could flip over. I had a beautiful view down along her back at that wondrous ass, my hard member already brushing against the tender young flesh. It only took a modest shift of my position to align my cock with the valley between Emma's buttocks. She shifted her feet wider, opening the cleft for me. Knowing that her anus was virgin, I did not want to just plunge right in deep, no matter how wet she was, or how my fingers had already relaxed her sphincter. I pressed forward slowly. Emma did a good job of relaxing her muscles, allowing the head of my cock to slid easily into her. I paused there a moment, rotating my hips so that my meat twisted into her rather than driving like a nail. "I guess that's why they call it screwing?" Emma laughed lustily. Steadily, I worked deeper into her rectum, making sure that my elbows kept my weight off of her. Emma let out a loud grunt as the last bit of my shaft sank right to the root, and my hips instinctively began fucking, the rhythm increasing. "Oh my god," Emma shouted as I pumped into her anus. "That's it, fuck my ass" she panted," Fuck your stepdaughter hard...you old perv." Her body was shaking again as another orgasm made her muscles milk me. "Good thing you love old pervs," I replied. "Come in my ass! Let me have your hot seed!" she screamed. I was beyond caring if she woke her Mom up. I plunged as deep into her shit hole as I could fit, my semen blasting into her bowel. "Good work, now you've had your Valentine's treat, and it's my turn for my treat." It was my wife's voice. My cock wilted instantly and slipped out of Emma's anus, the last dribbles of sperm spurting onto her backside. I twisted around and saw that my wife was bright eyed and wide awake, naked, leaning against the door frame by the bedroom, one hand twisting a nipple, the other deep in her squishy cunt. I stammered to explain, but then realized that there was no need -- I had been set up by the pair of them. My wife stepped over and dropped to her knees beside us. "I've always wanted to eat your cream out of an ass. Don't ask me why, but that just seems dirtier than a cream pie out of a cunt." "But it's your own daughter," I said. Both women giggled, one exactly like the other. "That just makes it naughtier, thus better," my wife pointed out as she lowered her face to her daughter's rear. I lay still, enjoying my ringside view as my wife started by licking the trail of semen off the curve of Emma's buttock, following it down to the cleavage that led to her daughter's rosebud. She shifted then to tease the dripping tip of my cock, which was still resting on Emma's backside, drinking up my last few drops. Once that was done, without further ado, my wife shattered a bunch of taboos - lesbian sex, group sex, incest. Her tongue plunged right past Emma's anal ring. I could see her cheeks, and her tongue sucking up my offering, which would no doubt be tinged by Emma's secretions, both vaginal and anal. Like the experienced cock sucker she was, my wife knew enough to swallow, but toward the end, as Emma's hips began bouncing up off the rug, another orgasm obviously near, my wife raised her head, slipping her fingers into both of her daughter's openings. We kissed, sharing a dirty snowball as Emma had one final climax courtesy of her mother's fingers, before collapsing, spent on the rug. "You haven't come yet," I pointed out to my wife, our heads only inches apart as we used her daughter as a pillow. "So you think -- I was watching for most of the time the two of you fucked. I came twice at my own hand. But just think of how much fun we'll have the rest of the day once you recover a bit. And we have half the week left." "This has been the best Valentine's treat ever," I agreed.