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Two of a Kind

Category: Incest
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Andrew Weston was not a man to trifle with. Neither was Alison: his stepdaughter. It was as if they had been fashioned from the same cloth and they understood each other perfectly: often trying to outmaneuver each other in a game of one-upmanship. Both were self assured and attractive to look at.

Alison, now eighteen and in her last few weeks of high school, had inherited her mother’s grey eyes and her natural father’s mahogany locks, which had grown long enough for her to bundle up in a knot on top of her head, making her appear much older than she actually was.

Andrew was only an inch or so taller than Alison: standing 5’10.”

His former wife, Anthea, had left him seven years ago. Andrew still hated the bitch even after all these years.

He had remarried a buxom blonde, named Rebecca.

He had married her on a whim. He did not actually love her.

She was, if anything, a trophy wife: but her beauty and expertise in the bedroom had beguiled him all the same.

After the marriage, Alison became bitter and resented this new man in her mother’s life.

She fought constantly with her stepfather and would go out of her way to create discord within the family home, in an effort to split them up.

Feelings of resentment and to a lesser degree, desire, would surface within Andrew whenever he looked at his stepdaughter.

It was his opinion that the girl could be a real cock-teasing bitch, if she felt that it served her purpose: not at all unlike his first wife.

Over time, the continuous father / stepdaughter conflict seemed to fuel the type of relationship, which ran deep with sexually charged overtones.

Alison now tuned in to her stepfather’s licentious sexual appetite, would often find great enjoyment playing the cock teasing bitch that had it within her power to infuriate and arouse him as ever the whim took her.

When Alison became the Captain of her High School cheerleading squad last year, she had made a point of bringing home the other team members to practice in their living room, often in their briefest outfits. She would watch her stepfather watching her and the other young women as they went through their athletic routines. He would watch with sustainable relish his stepdaughter’s high leg kicks, exposing her scant black latex panties and the inner part of her slim thighs and tight buttocks and, in turn, she would give him the ‘I know you want to fuck me’ smile.

The thought had occurred to her and more than once, that she would like to do just that very thing with him: however teasing him, making him want her badly and then cutting him off was, simply put, much more fun.

After watching Alison’s teammates go home, Andrew found Alison still parading around in the same short skirt and brief top, only now she had removed her bra, so that her 16 DD sized tits swung free. Her nipples were now outlined and visible, as they peaked through the white material of her cheerleader crop top.

Andrew smiled at her malevolently, but still held his ground.

One afternoon Andrew came home from work early to find his stepdaughter with some unknown male in her bedroom.

She appeared to be getting ready to go out and, as the door was slightly ajar, Andrew felt it within his perfect rights to watch her as she continued to dress.

She was wearing a matching light blue, low cut bra (which did nothing to support those large breasts); a thong, which disappeared into her butt crevice (he noticed this as she turned away from him) and a suspender belt. He continued to watch as Alison rolled a tan colored stocking up one of her shapely legs.

His breath caught in his throat as he observed her touch the bare skin above her stocking top with the tips of her fingers, using long languid strokes: back and forth; back and forth, repetitively. The visual display obviously meant as a sexual come-on, to tease her male companion.

Alison caught sight of her voyeuristic stepfather’s reflection in the lower section of her vanity mirror, but gave nothing away that would to indicate to him that he had indeed been spotted.

She bent over, slipping the remaining silk stocking onto her other foot and, ever so slowly, brought it up stopping just short of mid thigh, affording him the unfamiliar sight of her all-but-naked orifice, both cheeks taut and round; and he felt the familiar throb of desire pulsating in his groin once again.

“Damn! She was a hot piece of arse,” he thought to himself, wanting nothing more at this point than to thrust his cock into that tiny hole and fuck her until two weeks from Tuesday.

Alison, on the other hand, saw this moment as an opportunity to tease him unrepentantly with what she knew he wanted most and what she would forever deny him. Her! She casually walked over to the male in her room, took his hand, and used it to scoop one large breast out of its holder. The male squeezed her breast and Andrew watched as his stepdaughter threw her head back in unabashed pleasure. She then maneuvered herself so that she sat square on his lap, legs apart, facing him. She whispered something in his ear and he grinned.

Prolific jealousy resounded deep within Andrew.

He watched as the man lowered his hand and saw it disappear between his stepdaughters open legs and cussed under his breath.

He watched as she reached down, unfastening the man’s jeans and placed her hand in the opening and heard him groan. Andrew recognized the groan which escaped from somewhere inside the stranger. He had made the same sound a number of times himself, whilst fantasizing about shooting his load inside of his little hellion.

She reached behind her back and undid her bra clasps and, as she brought the straps down her from her shoulders exposing her copious flesh to his rival, he shifted and felt the instinctive and somewhat irrational stirring of real anger.

It was at this point that she waved to him in the mirror and laughed aloud, allowing him to know that she was fully aware of his presence. She stood up, easing herself backwards away from the man’s lap; walked over to the door and gave it an almighty kick, slamming it in his face.

From inside the room he heard her mutter, “Dickhead.”

He narrowed his eyes, overwhelmingly vexed by her dismissive attitude. He was sexually aroused, frustrated to the point of kicking in the bloody door and now, very, very angry.

The sound of the garage door opening and then closing again told him that Rebecca was now home. Rebecca threw the car keys on the coffee table and, upon seeing her husband standing, obviously fuming, whilst staring at his stepdaughters closed bedroom door: and recognizing the telltale signs of what she believed to be yet another argument, asked: “What happened this time?” Andrew was dismissive of both the question and his wife. He looked at her briefly and stated, in a tone that rang of ire rather than ardent desire: “come into the bedroom with me: now.”

There was no lovemaking between them anymore. The sex was raw, rough and emotionless, and simply a means to an end for Andrew. Once he had reached climax phase, the sexual need was sated, and he had no more need of her, he simply left the room. Rebecca watched him leave and then rolled on her side, drawing her knees up so that she took on the appearance of a rather large embryo.

Two days passed, but the incident between Alison and her stepfather remained foremost in their minds: Andrew, because he still badly wanted to fuck that smug smile right off her face and Alison, because in her eyes she thought she had won: yet again. Neither brought it up with the other. That evening, Andrew sat in the family living room attempting to watch TV. He was bored… and horny.

Rebecca was out at a fundraising event and would not be home for several hours.

Alison lay cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV: wearing the tightest denim jeans she owned and a white crop top: one size too small, which rode higher up her back whenever she wriggled to get more comfortable.

Just the sight of her was enough to arouse him further and the memory of that self satisfied smile on her face as she slammed the door on him two days ago only added further fuel to the growing fire. Alison acutely aware of her stepfather’s observance of her: closed her book and decided to play fast and loose with his emotions yet again.

She rolled over on her back, bent, and separated her knees about 10cms. She goaded him with her eyes daring him to move, touch her; do anything at all. She afforded him a contemptuous smile as she noticed his countenance change suddenly to raw lust. Andrew observed her as she slowly, deliberately raised the crop top to expose her ample cleavage and overfilled white broderie angles bra. Come on, her eyes taunted nonverbally and when she brazenly continued her visual assault on his senses by placing both her hands on either side of her breasts and pushing them together , then in a tone which dripped of sexual perversion, she whispered “you want me badly, don’t you…come and get it, then… Fuck me… you know you want to.”

He swore under his breath.

This bitch had teased him for long enough.

He raised himself up off the couch without saying a word and strides the eight steps to where she lay.

No longer taking into consideration her comfort or her willingness to participate further in the game she had initiated, he reached down, yanked the white garment over her head, and threw it across the room.

She stood up and screamed at him, “Wait until I tell mom about this. You are so fucked!”

Andrew gave her a wry smile and retorted, “No. Not yet, but I intend to be, believe me, and your mother will never know. You don’t really want her to find out just how much of a whore you really are, do you?”

Alison was furious and lunged at him, but he caught her arms laughing maliciously as she struggled against him. He threw her backwards against the wall pinning her to the spot with the front of his body. He grabbed for her hands and fought to bring them both together above her head and once that had been accomplished the strength in his left arm alone held both hands in place leaving his other hand to roam her body at will. He deftly undid the two hooks holding her bra in place. With nowhere for the cotton material to actually go, it simply hung there about her chest region, although not holding or supporting her tits anymore. It was his intention to make her suffer: he wanted it so badly he could taste it. He wanted to cause her pain: he also wanted to hear her yell out his name, begging for release: driven by blind need.

He twisted one of her nipples between his fingers and she winced in pain.

Alison struggled violently against him and even tried to bring her knee up aiming for his balls. She hoped it would throw him off affording her a rare opportunity to get away from him but he was astute enough to deflect the attack by turning sideways quickly so that her knee struck his right hip instead.

Bringing her into submission would not be easy.

He considered actually knocking her out cold, but dismissed the idea just as quickly.

Alison was breathing hard and fast from their tussling and her loose bra had somehow found its way to rest on her shoulder giving Andrew his first look at her perfectly formed DD breasts, which hung high due to the position of her arms.

He cupped her left breast in his right palm and felt the soft, spongy flesh defining her womanhood between his spread out fingers as he kneaded her.

He groaned loudly. His senses took hold of him.

Alison, still struggling against him and turning wildly to get away from him was unwittingly arousing him more and more with every sweep of her hip across his engorged cock.

The fire rising in his loins genuinely seemed to engulf him with a savagery that made him draw back from her lest he ejaculate prematurely.

He could take her now very easily but he wanted more time with her.

With her hands still held above her head and her left breast beginning to take on a separate identity of its own: Alison slowly began to revel in the masculine strength of the man who held her pinned to the wall.

He was beginning to get to her. She could not allow that to happen. Competitiveness made her change tactics.

She decided to use her feminine wiles: go all soft and pliable for a while: catch him off guard. She relaxed against the wall.

Andrew was not a stupid man. He sensed her change in tactics was a ploy to catch him off guard, but he also knew that her compliancy, though probably short lived, was a bonus and he intended to use it to its fullest advantage. He used his free hand to undo the fasteners of her jeans and pulled them down, tugging on the material one side at a time until the top of her jeans reached just below the junction of her thighs. She was wearing black lace panties underneath.

Alison, acutely aware of what his next move would be, moved one foot closer to the other, but the move was ineffectual.

His hand slid into the front of her panties and easily penetrated the space between her clenched thighs.

She gasped as she felt the rough skin of his forefinger grazing her clit as he stroked back and forth caressing her sensitive regions. Her breath caught in her chest and the intensity of the friction in his strokes caused her to involuntarily part her thighs, bend her knees outwards slightly and rock against his hand. None of her high school lovers had ever made her experience anything close to this level of arousal.

The internal battle raged on as Alison’s body wanted to keep experiencing the exquisite sensations he was evoking; but she also could not allow him to keep the upper hand for much longer.

Andrew, sensing victory, released her hands and knelt before her.

He pulled her lace panties all the way down her legs along with her jeans. He was rock hard and the ache was now close to unbearable. He undid his zipper freeing himself from the confines of his clothing: his intention: fucking her senseless.

Alison chose that particular moment to step out of her ankle high clothing, and pushed heavily on his shoulders, hard; causing him momentary loss of balance and he fell backwards. She tried to escape, but he caught her ankle: she tripped and fell to the floor. He was on her like white on rice.

“Ah, no you don’t,” he stated as he caught her hands once again and raised them back up above her head.

He placed both his knees between her thighs, keeping her partially open to allow himself easy access.

He lent forward just enough so that he could begin rubbing his cock against her feminine folds, teasing, and at the same time, showing her he was in total control.

Intense desire rose up within her and this time she finally submitted to him.

He drove his aching cock into her wet and welcoming scabbard, sheathing himself in her, until he felt the very neck of her womb against his head.

She arched up into him, but whether from pain or pleasure he could not tell: nor did he really care. The bitch had been asking for this, for months. He withdrew and thrust again. He felt her lift her legs and wrap them around his hips, her muscles tightening around his cock as the convulsions of her orgasm hit her.

Andrew felt a familiar sensation: pre-orgasmic need; and it ran through his entire body making him thrust into her harder, faster and with much greater urgency: feeling her muscular contractions only served to heighten the desire to offload and he went over the edge into oblivion.

Alison lay beneath him totally spent and more than a little put out that he had been able to get the better of her like that.

As Andrew lifted himself off her, she heard, “So: you cock teasing bitch, game over now.”

It was a statement not a question.

“Yes… Ok…you win…this time at least…but this is not the end of it, you arrogant bastard,” came her reply.

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