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Okay, that does it. I want to see how I really look given that I’ve been exercising for ten minutes now. I know it’s ridiculous, but these saggy, threadbare lounge pants are the kind made for comfort, so they literally resemble a parachute. As a result, I move over to the oversized dresser to begin digging through one of the drawers dedicated entirely to bikinis. It’s a bit of an obsession, but Idohave to wear a ton of skimpy swimwear at Club Z, what with all the scandalous activities.It’s a part of the job, I rationalize with a smile.
“Oooh!” I squeal as I pull out a tiny two-piece. This bikini was definitely an impulse buy because it’s so scandalous, and that’s saying something for me. But I fiddle with the fabric, hooking the postage-stamped size bits over my nipples, and then tying the strings around my neck and back. Oooh, perfect. My tits are huge and luscious, with really only the nipples covered as the sides and bottoms hang out.
Then comes the thong part. Okay, this is easier. There’s a tiny bit of cloth that’s basically enough to cover my clit, and not a whole lot else. I step into it, making sure my little bulge is hidden beneath the leopard print and then turn around to survey the back. Oh yeah, the string’s buried dirtily between my white cheeks, but unfortunately, my butt’s just not big. In fact, my ten minute workout hasn’t done a thing because instead of a juicy rump bisected by a bit of string, my butt’s the same as usual – average sized and not inspiring.
I head back over to my bed and grab my phone.
“What the hell? I thought there were seven-second workouts these days that are supposed to transform you into He-Man,” I grumble to myself. “What a crock of shit.” But then I land on a site that describes Brazilian butt lifts. It may sound crazy, but women actually get surgery to get bigger behinds. They literally liposuction fat from somewhere else on their body and then get it implanted in their booty! Pure genius, if I say so myself.
But I’m kind of afraid of going under and then not coming out the other side, so I exit out of that and go back to a cartoon drawing of a particularly intensive work-out move. I put my phone on the bed, scrambling up to try this weird squat myself, but I can’t figure out what goes next based on the arrows.
“And so I guess it’s back to YouTube,” I snort again, shaking my head with disgust. I open the app on my phone once more and then perch it against a jewelry box and position myself so that I can see both the video on the dresser and my body in the mirror. I want to keep an eye on my form because these so-called booty-building vids better work.
Upbeat music blasts through my speakers and oddly, it’s not obnoxious. Instead, it’s peppy and upbeat, almost like a dorm-room dance party. I crank up the volume as the instructor starts speaking. Her voice is chipper, but pleasant, and she also doesn’t waste time talking too much.
“All right everyone, let’s build our glutes together! Watch me first, and then we’ll do it together! We’re going to start with deep lunges, ready, 3, 2, 1!”
I follow the instructor’s moves, dropping one leg backward, parallel to the floor, and thrusting the other one forward. “Oh shit,” I groan, astounded by how little my legs can stretch. But at the instructor’s peppy encouragement, I keep going, lunge after lunge. The thong in my ass seems to be rubbing right where it shouldn’t, but I don’t care. No pain, no gain right?
So for the next several minutes, I lose myself in the throb of the music and the cadence of the workout. It kicks my butt at first, and my form is really awkward, but the instructor does a good job pointing out common mistakes while at the same time, pumping up her audience.
“Okay, now it’s time for glute bridges!” I watch as the instructor flashes a smile, and then lies down on the ground. I too pull the phone down to the floor so that it’s braced against the leg of my dresser. Then, I turn my face toward the screen, with my legs and ass pointed in the direction of my bedroom door. I must look ridiculous, but oddly, I’m kind of having fun. This is stupid, for sure, but at least the music’s decent.
In sync with the instructor, I lay flat on my back with my knees perpendicular to the ground. The music is really pumping now, and I can’t hear anything except the song and the directions. As soon as the instructor barks THREE!, I kick my left leg high, straight into the empty air above me. At the same time, I lift my hips off the ground, bending my right leg at the knee. A burn begins to simmer in my backside and thighs, and I start kicking and shaking even more vigorously.
Hell yeah, I’m going to get a booty! is my gleeful thought.
But as I thrust upward once more for the next set, one of my boobs literally pops out of my bikini top. It’s creamy and full, bouncing around with a life of its own, the pink nipple peaked as it swings around. I guess that’s what you get when you have tits the size of cantaloupes, held in only by the tiniest bikini top.
“Oh shit,” I groan. I know I should fix my outfit, but at the same time, I’m doing well! I’m too caught up in the exercise to want to stop.No one’s watching, I reason, not too concerned with my current state of undress.I’ll fix it just as soon as this set is done.
“Thrust up, and up, and up! Hold that position!”
But then I look up and my heart stops because oh shit. There’s a man standing there, and he’s staring at my big boob like he’s never seen a woman’s tit before. I stare at him for a moment too before opening my mouth to screech, “Sam!” Oh shit, why is my stepdad in my room? And why is he staring at me like he wants to eat me for dinner?
3
Sam
Istare at my saucy stepdaughter, unable to draw my eyes away from how insanely hot, and yet totally ridiculous, she looks in this compromising position. The curvy brunette has one leg sticking straight up in the air and the other one arched forward, her lush womanhood on display for the entire world to see. Okay, maybe she’s wearing a bikini bottom of sorts, but that thing isn’t more than a string nestled in her pussy lips and as I watch, the pink flesh glistens and beckons to me.
Even crazier, there’s a full, creamy tit hanging out from whatever top she has on, and I blink rapidly, trying to process that I’m seeing the stuff of my dreams. Holy shit. She’s got the biggest breasts I’ve never seen on a young woman, and the white orb beckons to me with its lush fullness and utterly suckable pink nipple.
Harlow lets out an ear-splitting scream when she finally notices me.
“Sam!” she shrieks while scrambling to get up. “What the hell are you doing here?” As she gets vertical, what do you know but her other boob falls out of the skimpy little top until the cloth is basically some random straps around her neck and back. Her two tits swing around enticingly, and I haphazardly wonder if I’d be able to suck them both at the same time.
But where are my manners? We lock eyes for another second before she springs into action, pulling open a dresser drawer. I can only assume she’s looking for something to cover up with, and I’m surprised by how horny I am. Then again, why would I be surprised? My stepdaughter’s a nubile young woman with a body that could slay entire armies, and I’m a red-blooded alpha male with needs. It’s a fortuitous meeting, if I do say so myself.
But I try to come off as the forbidding stepfather.
“Harlow, what the hell are you doing?” I demand.
The luscious teen finally grabs a sweater and clutches it to her bosom, her face red now.
“What are you even doing in here?” Harlow manages to squeal. “This is my room! You never come down to this floor!” She’s trying to arrange the material so that it hides her body from my view, but it’s impossible because the sweater’s just too small. Every time she pulls the chunky material up, it exposes her pussy. And when she shifts it down, her full tits are exposed. I don’t mind the accidental peep show though, so I keep my mouth shut.
Instead, I lean into my role of strict caretaker. “I’m in here because I can’t hear myself think over that noise that you call music,” I growl as my chest tightens. “I can hear the ruckus three flights up, that’s how loud you have your speakers.”
