Previous Parts: Part 1 here, Part 2 here

Part 3

That first night in his room is torture.

He’s taken his pillow down with him and put fresh sheets on the bed, but the whole room still smells like him. Molly only lasts about ten minutes before she’s hunting in her bag for her dildo and pulling soaked underwear to one side. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees him and what was so poorly covered by that towel earlier, thick and long, hard for her…

Molly snatches an hour or two of sleep at a time, waking throughout the night – sweating, pulse racing, dreams of being bent over and pounded turning into a series of shaking orgasms over the head of her toy. By the time daylight streams through the gap in the curtains, the room is filled with the heady mix of his cologne and her musky sex. She wakes, bleary eyed and exhausted, way earlier than usual, body still singing with insatiable need despite her nocturnal indulgences – she’s out of control, but she doesn’t care.

Padding down the stairs, wiping sleep from her eyes, she’s hoping to feel the temperature drop. Some cooling shift in the air, sweet breeze rolling in from the open windows on the middle landing... Instead, just more baking heat – a searing early morning light that heralds the menacing inferno still to come.

The slick glow of sweat already coating her chest puts paid to the idea of wearing anything more modest than the thin, strappy vest she’s got on. Even these little gym shorts feel like too much, but she doubts she’ll get away with giving Ade another eyeful of thong-split ass so soon after yesterday’s display…

Opening the door to the living room though, Molly stops in her tracks - reconsidering that last point...

Softly snoring, her stepfather’s sprawled on his back across the couch, covers pushed aside in the sweltering heat of the morning, bare chested and wearing only a pair of tight navy briefs…

She should really knock; or call out; or cough, or…. something. Anything to announce her presence and give him a chance to cover up.

She doesn’t though.

Tiptoeing around the creaky floorboard near the coffee table, Molly approaches the sleeping form of her stepdad, careful to focus on where she’s walking and not fixate on Adrian’s substantial bulge.

Normally, she’d chicken out by now – pounding heart helping to drive home the warning screaming within her mind... This morning though, she’s too tired, too aroused by last night’s activity. Too damn hot… The surreal reality of their lockdown captivity, combined with the absence of anything from Tyler to temper it, has eroded what little self-control remained. Molly can’t think straight anymore, the object of her desires so close, so accessible…

Light-headed, she kneels between the couch and the coffee table, eyes flicking up to check Adrian’s features – searching for any sign that he might wake. She forces herself to wait, count three times the rise and fall of his fuzz-covered, broad chest before moving.

Watching her hands as though they belong to somebody else, fingers pale and trembling while she looks on, Molly reaches for the waistband of his underwear. Pulse thudding tight in her neck, she hooks fingers under the elastic and pulls, half expecting a swift grunt of shock and Adrian’s head to jerk up…

To her immense relief, he stays relaxed – slumbering softly while she delicately drags the briefs off his hips and down his thighs. She's so focused on not waking him, she shocks herself once she looks up, catching sight of him exposed for the first time.

Breathing out, she can hear her heartbeat in the shuddering exhalation. That simmering level of arousal humming though her body from last night already surpassed - raging now, dial turned all the way up.

Any hopes Molly might have harbored for managing her next steps rationally have gone out of the window – pussy wet and throbbing in her tight shorts when she leans forward, face hovering just a fraction of an inch from where Adrian's cock is lying against his thigh.

Thick, heavy and veiny, even at rest… She’s captivated – reassessing what her fevered imagination has fantasized over and over. The reaction from her body is savage, intensity building - parting her thighs to stop the pounding flow of blood through her already engorged sex becoming any more urgent.

She needs this.

The thought keeps echoing through her skull even as she chases it away. She needs this - to the point where it’s all consuming now. This dick needs to be in her body, in her mouth, stretching her holes… She could almost weep with longing.

Molly parts her lips, pulling the musky scent of him over her tongue, imagining the taste. Without thinking she breathes out, heavy exhalation rolling over his nude body. His groan makes her freeze, adrenaline spiking…

To her relief, he’s still asleep – but that surge of fear has galvanized her; and Molly finds herself moving before she fully knows what she’s doing, fingers wrapped round his soft, heavy shaft before she brings the fat head to her lips…

That taste... The savage surge of lust when she feels him start to swell and stiffen in her mouth, the ache from under her belly and through her clit… It’s electric. She’s committed now, too invested, too turned on to care about discovery or consequences anymore.

Molly can hear him stirring, but it only goads her on, pushing her lips down his veiny prick as the taught skin strains. He’s huge, filling her jaw now, and she takes as much as she dares. Snuffling and drooling, she relaxes, taking him in all the way – holding him in her throat while she bobs her head and moans with lust.

He's waking up, but she’s beyond caring. Face filled with the dick she’s craved for months, she’s in heaven… Rubbing herself, she drives her mouth down his thick length, over and over. He’s grunting and panting now – almost certainly awake. Molly comes up for air, rubbing thick strings of saliva over and around the fat, swollen tip before opening wide to take him in her mouth again.. She doesn’t dare look up – can’t look up…

She wants it; wants his cum coating her tongue, sliding down her throat… He’s close. She can feel it, the tension in his hips and the tiny tremors across his thighs growing stronger by the moment. Her fingers are dancing in her wetness below, frantic rubbing matching her eagerness to milk his cock with her willing little mouth. She hears him cry out, flicks her eyes up – desperate to see his face creased in sweet agony before he empties himself into her throat…

But all that meets her gaze is the rumpled edge of her pillow, stained dark with drool…

A dream? Really? For fuck’s sake…

Throat dry and tight, she swallows hard and groans with frustration… Just as she hears the soft click of the bedroom door closing…

Whipping her head off the pillow she stares at the handle and dark paneled frame, faint smell of cedar and sandalwood hanging in the air. Was…? Was he here? Was he watching her?

Scanning the bed, her face burns at the thought of what Adrian might have seen… Her dildo lying out on the sheets, rolling out of her grip after the orgasm that finally let her sleep last night - underwear still pulled to one side, exposing her. Wincing at the sweat slicked vest that’s sticking to her back, she reaches down to adjust her panties only to gasp at the amount of wetness on her inner thigh – that last dream must have really…. Wow.

Shifting her weight on the mattress, she hears the springs creak – and something else… The muffled groan of the loose floorboard just behind the door, similar to the sound of the old mattress, but not entirely.

Somebody is out there….

Straining her ears for footsteps, Molly waits, hoping to have suspicions confirmed by hearing his heavy tread move down the hall. The silence persists though, and she starts to wonder just how light this big man can be on his feet... Was that how he’d been able to walk in on her the other day when she was Face-timing Tyler?

Suddenly, she’s awake enough to comprehend what’s going on. He must have been in here, watching her writhe and moan in her dream, pussy leaking while she imagined his thick cock deep in her throat…

Was he hard while he watched?

Must have been... but why hadn’t he woken her? Laid down behind and kissed her neck, pulled her hips back onto that huge dick - made her take it all, stretching her out... How dare he be so close to her lust-wracked body and not fuck her senseless?

Steady girl. Even with their boundaries frayed and crumbling, it would seem there was still a line. And right now that line was the dark oak of his bedroom door…

Should she go and pull it open? Take his hand and run his fingers through the wetness that belonged to him? Sighing, she obeys the heavy weight of her muscles and their reluctance to follow through on her desire. Clearly, dream Molly is just that bit bolder than IRL Molly... Still, no reason not to give him a show if he's just going to stand at the door listening, waiting for her to make enough noise to cover his escape.

Oh, she could make noise all right…

Reaching for her dildo, she changes her mind, a vicious little thought forming. Yes, why not perform and give him a little memento of the occasion? Molly moves a hand down to her damp panties and lets her fingers play over the top. Her clit feels huge, firm and achy. Even with the cotton barrier between her circling fingers and that throbbing point, it’s still exquisitely sensitive.

She lets her mind return to her dream, to the sofa, to him – except now he’s not so passive now. Not passive at all.

She feels her orgasm build quickly, cresting under her frantic fingers and rolling hips. Clutching at her breasts, she knows it won’t take long, pinching tight nipples with a yelp and moan. She lets it build, pulling her vest up over her tits roughly, imagining meaty hands groping at her – squeezing that little bit too hard, letting her know she’s his now…

Her groans are full and throaty, punctuated by hoarse panting while she rides out the contractions that ripple up her thighs and tighten inside. Wailing, she strums desperately at the sopping panties stretched over her mound, trembling at the surging pressure that’s straining for release between her hips. At the point of no return, just as the intensity of it feels like it’s going to rip her to pieces, she whimpers into the thick air of the hot room…

“Oh, God yes, that’s it – you’re going to make me cum….” She tips over the edge, fulsome savage torrent now unleashed, leaving her howling;

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, Adrian!”

Even through the shuddering spasms that roll through her, Molly can’t help but smile at the loud gasp from behind the door and the sound of bare feet making a hasty retreat across the hardwood floor.

When those sweet waves subside, she laughs, sighing with dirty pleasure while she peels off her saturated underwear and walks to Ade’s laundry basket in the corner of the room.

Smiling, she tucks the fragrant little bundle in with his shirts on top of the pile. Barely hidden, they’ll sit just under his nose when he carries the pile down to the machine – a perfect reminder of her lust for him…

And how she wants more...

Thank you for reading this series - hope you're enjoying this one! Part 4 available here.