The Dirty Virgin

By: Cassandra Dee



“Oh Mr. Markham!” she’d moan beneath me. “Your dick is so good, so big!”

But Lorena’s been acting weird, sloppy and oddly secretive recently. Take my last business trip for example. I was in her bed the minute I got back, and she put out but it was different. After I came the brunette swung her legs off the bed and got up.

“So soon baby?” I drawled, taking in that curvaceous form.

“Oh yeah, just going to step into the shower,” she said, her voice disappearing into the bathroom. “Just getting clean!” she sang.

And I heaved my big body out of the bed, trailing her into the en suite.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” I growled, only to stop short when I saw what was on the counter.

Because instead tying up the used condom and dropping it into the trash, the rubber was lying on the counter like a dead piece of plastic.

“Honey, didn’t you forget to throw this away?” I asked, eyebrows raised. I’m not squeamish or anything but it’s just weird.

And the woman merely sighed and wiggled her hips from the steamy shower stall, not bothering to answer.

“Come in and get it big boy,” she breathed, opening the stall door invitingly.

Of course, I was on it like a flash. I was in that tiny space, taking what was mine all over again, the weird condom situation notwithstanding. Oh well, maybe things were a little out of order because she was so stunned from the mindblowing sex.

But it actually happened a couple times. Lorena would always take the used condoms and forget to throw them away, which frankly was just unsanitary especially for someone who used to be a cleaning lady.

“Baby, what the fuck?” I demanded, annoyed again at seeing another one next to the bathroom sink again. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you ditching these things?”

And the woman gasped.

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “I guess it’s from my days as a housekeeper. You know I had to clean so often that I love being sloppy now. Being messy and gross is like a strike against the universe, rebelling against my past.”

“I get it,” I said, putting my arms around her waist. “I get it, you don’t have to do that stuff anymore,” I murmured into her neck. And Lorena sighed happily, exhaling loudly.

“I knew you’d get it Mr. Markham, I knew you would,” she cooed, offering me her body again.

And I took it, pushing the incident out of my mind, but it kept happening. Used condoms kept appearing here and there, I would find those limp suckers on the bathroom counter, behind the toothpaste, in the medicine cabinet, untied, my semen slopping around messily. It was fucking gross but I got it, Lorena had been a maid her whole life and being messy now was her form of rebellion.

But those days of hot couplings seem to be growing few and far between now. Now, instead of getting to fuck her non-stop, Lorena’s drawing back, even withholding sex sometimes. Can you believe it? I married a penniless housekeeper for sex and now that we’re legally bound, she doesn’t feel the need to put out. The bitch has obviously never heard of conjugal rights.

But I still feel the need to dominate, the urge to assert myself, my libido growing ever stronger, more overpowering by the day. Except there’s another factor that I never considered … my stepdaughter Cleo. She was a skinny, pale twig when I first met her, someone who never spoke, just looked with big green eyes. But recently, she’s changed. Eighteen now, her body’s matured, that ass round and juicy, and fuck me, but she hasn’t been wearing panties lately.

I know … because she’s been watching me as I watch her.





CHAPTER THREE


Cleo




I want to tempt my stepdad somehow, but I’m not exactly sure how. I mean, I’m still growing into my new body, so while the outside me is now curvy and tantalizing, the inside sometimes still feels like gangly fifteen year-old, complete with acne and braces.

I’d heard my parents going at it again last night. As usual, my mom had spent the day by the pool doing absolutely nothing, and Drake had come home, stressed and anxious from work, needing a thorough blow job to relieve the steam.

I could hear through the door of his suite, the thick oak not enough to stifle their argument.

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