Make Me Moan, Daddy

REINA

It had been over an hour since it happened.

Since I got on my knees and sucked my father-in-law's cock like my life depended on it.

An hour since I had done something so forbidden.

And yet I was still trembling. Still wet. Still shamefully, achingly needy.

I lay on my back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets twisted around my legs. The villa was quiet now, too quiet, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for me to either fall apart or do something stupid all over again.

And maybe I was already doing something stupid.

Because I couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way Domenico looked at me like he owned me. Like I was nothing more than a mouth for him to fuck and leave behind. And God help me... I liked it. I liked it so fucking much it made my thighs clench and my nipples painfully hard under my silk crop top.

He hadn't said a word after. Hadn't looked back. Just walked out, leaving me on the floor like discarded trash.

And still... my pussy pulsed at the memory. My whole body still aching for his touch.

I should have felt humiliated. I did, at first. For a few minutes after he left, I sat on the floor crying, angry at myself for being so weak to pleasure, so hungry, so desperate. For wanting him. For loving the way he tasted. For the way I swallowed it all down like it was salvation. For the way he made me feel good.

But now?

Now, I couldn't stop touching myself.

The shame was still there, curling around my ribs like barbed wire but it wasn't strong enough to stop my fingers from sliding down my stomach and slipping between my thighs.

"Mmmph." I moaned softly as I found how soaked I still was.

"Fuck," I whispered into the quiet.

It wasn't the first time I'd fantasized about him. But it was the first time I had something real to cling to. Not just vague imaginings of what his cock looked like, but the actual memory of it thick and veiny, heavy on my tongue, twitching as he moaned good girl like I was his dirty little toy.

I spread my legs wider, the cool air licking at my wetness as I let my fingers circle my clit. Slowly. Teasingly. My other hand cupped my breast, fingers pinching my nipple as I pictured Domenico standing over me again, ordering me to crawl. Barking that deep, ruthless "Now," like I had no choice.

I didn't want a choice.

The fantasy warped, deepened and now I was bent over the couch, and he was behind me, growling filth into my ear as he pounded into me. His hand fisted in my hair. His ring-clad fingers digging into my hips. My husband's name on his lips just to remind me how wrong it was.

Just how filthy what we were doing was.

"Your pussy was wasted on him," I imagined him saying. "You were mine the moment you stepped your legs into my house."

I gasped as I rubbed faster, my body arching.

My mind fed me more, his mouth on my neck, biting, bruising, claiming. His cock stretching me wide while his voice stayed cold, cruel, intoxicating.

Then the image shifted again.

This time we were on my marital bed. This bed. My husband's scent still clinging to the pillows, his shirts in the closet.

Domenico fucking me right here where his son sleeps every night.

I moaned louder now, my hips rising to meet my own touch. I rubbed harder, faster, fingers slick and needy. The thought of being caught only turned me on more even more. The danger. The depravity. The fact that it was his son I was married to, but he was the one making me feel alive.

And then I imagined it.

My husband walking in. Opening the door.

Finding his wife sprawled naked across his bed, his father's cock buried deep in her pussy, her moans like music.

He would scream. He would break. And still I wouldn't stop. Because I loved it so fucking much.

That image alone sent me over the edge.

My orgasm slammed into me so hard I arched off the bed, my mouth open in a silent cry, my toes curling. My thighs shook, my entire body clenching as the forbidden pleasure tore through me.

"Fuck... Daddy..." I whimpered breathlessly.

The aftershocks left me weak and wet and shivering.

It was the hardest I'd ever come in my life.

And it was because of him.

Domenico Gravano.

My sexy as sin father-in-law.

I lay there for a moment, limbs splayed, sweat cooling on my skin. My fingers were still between my legs, wet with proof of what I'd just done to myself, something I always did when I thought of him.

Something my husband could never do. Something he could never make me feel.

I eventually dragged myself up and stumbled to the bathroom. I cleaned up quickly, brushing my hair, rinsing my mouth, removing my crop top and short. Putting on my nightwear and smoothing my nightgown back over my flushed skin like it could hide the sin burning just beneath the surface.

I was just crawling back into bed when I heard the door open.

My heart skipped.

Not because I was afraid of being caught.

But because the timing was almost too perfect.

My husband walked in, looking exhausted. His eyes were dull, his movements robotic. He barely glanced at me before kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket.

I watched him like a stranger. Felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. No anticipation. Just numbness.

He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, then leaned over and gave me the same kiss he always gave me. The one on my forehead. Gentle. Lifeless. Obligatory.

And then he collapsed beside me and passed out, just like that.

No questions.

No passion.

No teasing.

No idea.

I turned onto my side, staring at him. This man. The man I was married to.

The man who had no clue his father's cum had been in my mouth just an hour before.

I should've felt sick.

Instead, I smiled.

Because for the first time in years, I'd felt everything.

Because Domenico made me feel desired. Dominated. Ruined.

Because while my husband slept beside me like a fucking meatbag, the ghost of his father's moans still echoed in my ears. Making my pussy drip with pleasure.

And I knew without a doubt... I would do it again. And again if Daddy let me.