Filth Files

~Nina

I woke up to the smell of pancakes.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, my chest tightening. My mom was at the stove, and Mason had his arm wrapped tight around her waist.

He was kissing her neck while she flipped breakfast, looking like the perfect couple. I hated it. We'd only moved into his place a week ago-right on my eighteenth birthday.

Mason wasn't like the idiots at my school. He was young, handsome, and built like he spent every morning in the gym. He was smart, too. He had this quiet, intense energy that made the air feel heavy.

The floorboard creaked under my feet. Mason was the first one to notice me. He didn't take his hand off my mom's waist; he just watched me.

"Look who's awake," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "How'd you sleep, Nina?"

I stood there, feeling small under his gaze, wondering why my heart was suddenly racing.

"Won't you come give mummy a hug?" Mom asked, her smile sweet and oblivious. "I decided to cook something really yummy for you before I go."

That was the thing about Mom-she was never actually home. It's the reason Dad divorced her in the first place; she was married to her career as a Senior International Consultant. If she wasn't in London, she was in Tokyo or Dubai.

She turned to Mason, kissing him hard on the mouth. "I'll miss you," she whispered against his lips. Then she slid a plate of pancakes and syrup in front of me, kissing my cheek. "I'll miss you too, sweetie."

Outside, a car horn blared. The driver was waiting.

"Well, that's me," she laughed sheepishly, grabbing her bags. She looked at me one last time. "Be good, okay?"

I just nodded, my throat feeling tight.

"Don't worry," Mason said, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer to me. "I'll handle this one."

Mom waved and disappeared out the door, the sound of the car fading as they pulled away. The house went dead silent, except for the sound of my own breathing.

My heart fluttered. Handle me? What the hell did that mean? I looked down at my plate, but I wasn't thinking about food. I felt a sudden, traitorous dampness between my legs.

My body was a traitor. Every thought crossing my mind was depraved, nasty, and completely wrong. I wasn't this person-I was the daughter, the student, the girl who stayed out of trouble. But the ache between my legs didn't care about labels.

I shoved the pancakes down my throat, barely tasting them, and bolted for the stairs. I needed to get to my room before I lost it. Once the door was shut, I fumbled for my laptop with shaking hands. My breath was coming in short, jagged bursts as I typed "step-dad and daughter" into the search bar of an adult site.

The first video that popped up had no sound, but I didn't have the patience to find another one. I was too far gone. I kicked off my shorts and slid my hand down, my fingers finding the damp heat of my panties.

I applied pressure to my clit, massaging it in small, frantic circles. Over and over. My head hit the pillow and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on the screen, but the pixels blurred.

Instead, Mason's face burned behind my eyelids. I pictured those strong, muscular arms that had been around my mother's waist just minutes ago. I imagined those hands on me instead.

I was chasing a peak I shouldn't want, moaning into the empty room as I moved faster. My heart hammered against my ribs.

I was so focused that I almost didn't hear the door swing open.

The room wasn't quiet anymore. The sound from the video-the loud moans and the heavy breathing-hit me all at once. It was blasting at 100% volume.

My heart nearly stopped. I froze, my hand still tucked inside my panties. Mason was standing right there in the doorway. He wasn't looking at the screen; he was looking straight at me. In his hand, he held my Bluetooth speaker. Now I know why there was no sound.

The dirty sounds filled the room, making my face burn with shame. I couldn't move. I was caught doing exactly what I wasn't supposed to be doing.

Mason didn't look mad. He just leaned against the door, his dark eyes trailing over my body.

"You left your Bluetooth on, Nina," he said. His voice was calm and deep, cutting right through the noise of the porn. He walked closer until he was standing over my bed. "And you have very... interesting taste in movies."

He set the speaker down on my nightstand. It vibrated against the wood, making the loud moans feel even more real.

"So," he whispered, stepping even closer. "Were you going to finish, or should I help?"

~Nina

My heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn't move. He had caught me, and the room was still screaming with the sound of the video. I waited for him to yell, but he didn't.

Mason walked slowly toward the bed. He didn't look away for a second. He reached down and grabbed the hand I had hidden in my panties. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He lifted my hand and put my two fingers into his mouth.

He sucked on them slowly, his eyes locked on mine. I felt the heat of his tongue and the pull of his lips. It was the most depraved thing I'd ever felt.

"You taste so good," he said, a dark smile playing on his face as he pulled my fingers out.

I was speechless. I just stared at him, my breath hitching in my throat. This was my mother's husband. This was wrong. But when he reached for the waistband of my shorts and started to pull them down, my body didn't fight him as hard as it should have.

I resisted a little, my hands trembling against his chest. He didn't stop. He leaned in, pressing his lips right against my ear. His hot breath made me shiver.

"I see the way you look at me, Nina," he whispered, his voice like velvet. "I want you, too."

He looked hungry. Looking at his face, I could see every evil intention he had for me, and I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to play out every dark thought right here, right now.

Instead of pulling away, I moved my legs slightly, giving him more access. I was practically inviting him in.

He noticed. A slow, wicked smirk spread across his lips as he realized I wasn't going to fight him anymore. He grabbed my knees and forced my legs even wider, exposing me completely under the harsh light of the room.

"That's a good girl," he growled, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone.

He didn't waste any more time. He leaned down, his muscular frame hovering over me, and I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

He slipped one finger inside me. I gasped, my eyes going wide. I had never been fingered before-not even by myself. I had always been too scared to go deeper than my clit, but now, Mason was claiming that territory with ease.

He slid a second finger in, stretching me open. My back arched off the bed, my body seeking out the pressure.

"You're so wet, Nina," he growled. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. "You feel and taste so good. Even better than your mum."

A low groan of protest left my throat. "You can't be touching me and talking about her," I managed to choke out.

His voice grew even deeper, a dark smirk pulling at his mouth. "Why? You don't like when I talk about your mummy?" He taunted me, pumping his fingers in and out in a steady, ruthless rhythm. "Are you jealous?"

He didn't wait for an answer before adding a third finger. The sensation was overwhelming. I felt full, stretched to my limit, and incredibly sensitive. Every time his hand moved, a lightning bolt of heat shot from my core to my toes. My pussy felt swollen and heavy, clamping down on his hand as if it never wanted him to leave.

I couldn't look away from him. My eyes were locked on his lips-they were pink and looked so soft, even while he said such cruel, filthy things. Despite the guilt, hearing him say I was better than Mom felt oddly good. It was a sick kind of victory.

"Answer me, Nina," he whispered, his fingers hitting a spot deep inside that made my vision blur. "Are you my jealous little girl?"

I felt the guilt clawing at my throat, so I stayed silent, biting my lip. But Mason wasn't going to let me hide. With one hand, he yanked my shirt up, exposing me to the cool air before he used his thumb and forefinger to pinch my nipple. He did it so hard it stung, a sharp flash of painful pleasure that made my back arch even higher.

"Yes!" I cried out, the truth ripped from me. "I'm your jealous little girl!"

The words felt like a sin, but they made his eyes flare with heat. He finally pulled his hand away from my dripping pussy, but the relief only lasted a second. He stood up just enough to unzip his trousers.

When he pushed down his drawers, a massive, veiny, throbbing cock sprang free. I had never seen anything like it in real life. It was huge, the skin dark and pulsating with every beat of his heart. My eyes bulged, locked onto the sight of that thick rod.

I felt my mouth go bone-dry and then immediately flood with saliva. I was practically drooling, my gaze tracing the length of him as he stood over me.

He wrapped a large hand around himself, giving it a slow, firm stroke as he watched me gawk at him.

"You like what you see, Nina?" he asked, his voice rough. "Does it look better than the ones in your videos?"

He didn't give me any warning. He grabbed my hips, tilted my pelvis up, and plunged his whole length into me in one relentless shove.

The air left my lungs in a sharp cry. I had never felt anything so big, so solid, and so invading. It felt like he was tearing right through me, reaching spots I didn't even know I had.

Before the second scream could leave my lips, he slammed his large palm over my mouth, muffling my voice. He leaned down, his chest pressing my breasts flat against the mattress, and put his mouth right over my ear.

"We have neighbors, Nina," he hissed, his breath hot and smelling like the coffee he'd had with breakfast.

He didn't stop. He started to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, harder than before. The bed frame groaned against the wall with every hit. I could feel the veins on his cock rubbing against my tight walls, stretching me until I thought I'd break.

"Your mum doesn't scream like this," he whispered into my ear, his voice dark and mocking. "She's quiet. Controlled. But you... you're a little mess, aren't you?"

I shook my head against his hand, my eyes welling with tears of pure, overwhelming sensation. My pussy was clamped tight around him, pulsing with every thrust. I could hear the wet, slapping sounds of our skin meeting, echoing the filth from the speaker on the nightstand.

He moved his hand from my mouth to my throat, not squeezing, just holding me there so I had to look at him. His thrusts got faster and shallower, drilling into me until my vision started to spot.

"Tell me," he groaned, his jaw tight with effort. "Tell me you're better than her."

"Yes! I'm better than mummy!" I practically shouted.

I didn't care who heard me anymore. I took every inch of him as he hammered into me. His cock was so thick and pulsating, it felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside, but the pain only made the pleasure sharper. Each thrust was harder than the last, making me lose my grip on reality.

The porn was still screaming at 100% volume, but my own voice was louder. I was completely senseless.

"Take daddy's cock, Nina," he growled, his eyes dark and wild. "Take it like the good girl you are."

He slid two fingers into my mouth, and I sucked on them instinctively, my tongue swirling around them.

"Your mouth is so warm and wet," he whispered. He pulled his fingers out and reached down, rubbing my clit in fast, repetitive circles while he kept pumping inside me.

The sensation was too much. A crazy tingling started in my lower belly and spread everywhere. My vagina walls began to squeeze him, contracting in tight, desperate pulses.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his face contorting. "Your virgin pussy feels so... so perfect."

He sped up, his hips slamming against mine until I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred and my whole body went stiff. I let out a muffled scream into the room as my climax hit me like a wave, my insides clamping down on him as I came harder than I ever thought possible.

He let out a loud grunt, thrusting deep one last time as he followed me over the edge, filling me with his heat while the video on the laptop finally went silent.

He collapsed on the bed next to me, his chest rising and falling in a slow, controlled rhythm. I was still gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I turned my head and found myself staring into his blue eyes. Up close, the man was truly beautiful, even with that dark, dangerous energy still rolling off him.

He reached out his large hand gentle now as he pushed my damp hair out of my face. He cupped my cheeks, and leaned in to give me a soft, lingering kiss.

"That was my first time," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I've never done anything like that before."

He smiled, satisfied. "I know," he said softly. "I'm happy I was the one who got to do it."

I couldn't help it; I smiled back.

But then, the moment snapped. Mason stood up, adjusting his clothes.

"I have to go out for a bit," he said, checking his watch.

I opened my mouth to speak-to ask where he was going, or when he'd be back, or if we were ever going to talk about this-but nothing came out. I just watched him walk toward the door, leaving me alone in the mess of my bedsheets with the ghost of his touch still burning on my skin.

I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, but I couldn't scrub away the feeling of him. Afterward, I stood in front of the mirror. I looked a mess-my hair was tangled, and my lips were swollen.

I saw my cheeks turn pink as a small smile pulled at my mouth. The guilt was there, heavy in my chest, but the satisfaction deep in my core made it all feel worth it.

I spent the next hour staring out the window, looking for any sign of his car. When he didn't show, I tried to do my homework, but I couldn't focus. I ended up throwing my textbook across the room in frustration. Every time I closed my eyes, I just saw his face and felt his hands on me.

"Where did he go?" I asked myself. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep, feeling really stupid.

I woke up hours later to the sound of tires on the gravel. I immediately scrambled out of bed, a huge smile on my face. I wanted him to see me, to notice me again. I pulled on a pair of tiny booty shorts and a see-through tank top. My nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric, peeking out to say hello.

I walked downstairs just as he came in through the kitchen door. I caught myself and folded my arms over my chest, trying to look annoyed. I knew I shouldn't be upset-he was my mother's husband, not mine-but I couldn't help it.

"Where did you go?" I asked. The question slipped out before I could stop it, my voice sounding more possessive than I intended.

Mason stopped in his tracks, his eyes slowly dragging from my face down to my sheer top, then back up again. He didn't answer right away.He walked toward me.

Without saying a word, he grabbed my waist and lifted me up, sitting me onto the high kitchen stool. My legs dangled, and the cold metal of the seat felt sharp against my bare skin.

He reached into one of the grocery bags he had brought in. I expected food, but instead, he pulled out a small, rectangular box. He popped a single white pill out of the foil and held it out to me.

It was the morning-after pill.

"Drink," he commanded, his voice flat and firm.

I looked at the pill, then up at him.

I took the pill from his palm, my fingers brushing against his skin. I swallowed it dry, the bitter taste sticking in my throat. He watched me the whole time, his blue eyes tracking the movement of my neck as I gulped it down.

He leaned in close, his hands resting on the stool on either side of my thighs, trapping me. "Now," he whispered, his eyes dropping to my chest where my nipples were still pressing against the thin fabric of my top. "Don't ask me where I go, Nina. You're the one who wanted to be a bad girl. Bad girls don't get to ask questions."