Stuffed While Stuck at the Cabin With StepDaddy
T. A. BEAU
Stuffed While Stuck at the Cabin With StepDaddy
T. A. BEAU
A short pseudoincest erotica story with degrading kink and mild waterboarding.
Copyright © 2024 T. A. BEAU
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.
WORD COUNT: 4900 words
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“Can you take your feet off the dashboard, Rhian? I have seen reports about people getting into accidents and getting hurt sitting like that,” Adam says, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
I wiggle my feet and keep them there, enjoying the cool air from the open window. The temperature was dropping, which can only mean rain.
“Then keep your eyes on the road, you dirty old pervert,” I say, seeing his eyes flick over to my legs. I love messing with him. When he first came into our lives, he had tried to parent me, tried to control me. I was 15. No teenager wants a stepparent trying to control them, much less one who looks like Adam.
He isn't a bad-looking guy, but he’s definitely a fuck boy. I look at him, wondering why my mom would marry someone like him. Sure, he’s sexy for an older guy, but he’s the type that peaked in high school.
I had seen him trying on his dusty, wrinkled, letterman's jacket last week and had to contain my laughter as I filmed him on my phone. I had to cover the sound with a cough and run away when he did the football block, groaning from the aches time had delivered to his body.
“Rhian, I don't understand why you always butt heads with me. I just don't want you getting hurt,” he says, his hands sliding along the wheel. I stare at them, watch them move, and narrow my eyes. I hate how even his hand movements feel slightly sexual.
“You make it so easy, Adam,” I say, pulling my earbuds out. He shakes his head and keeps driving, the access road to the cabin approaching quickly.
I hate that he tries to tell me what to do. I'm an adult, a college student, and he is trying to control me despite me being twenty.
Who does that? I wonder to myself, finding my music app and letting the sounds wash over me. Someone who has nothing better to do with their life, I answer myself, smirking at Adam, glad he can't hear my thoughts.
I imagined pushing him over the side of a cliff, wondering if anyone would miss him aside from my mom. He’s nothing but a fuck boy, a shiny toy for my mom to play with until she gets tired of him.
I close my eyes, imagining all the ways I can humiliate or torture my stepfather when the car comes to a stop.
“What's wrong?” I ask, lazily opening my bright blue eyes.
I stare at the bridge over the river, the final landmark we are to pass before getting to my family's cabin. The water churns and swells, the white caps of the waves being pushed by the wind.
“That water looks rough. Got a storm coming,” Adam says, stating the obvious. I look at the sky, the dark gray clouds blotting out the sun and roll my eyes.
“No shit, dumbass,” I whisper, moving my hand toward the road. “Let's go. I gotta pee.”
I put my phone away and pull my feet from the dashboard, my tiny shorts sliding up even further. Adam sighs loudly, puts the truck in gear, and continues on the road.
My mom had to work, so she would be coming up tomorrow, bringing the heavy duffels of clothing I had packed the previous day, crammed full of shirts, shorts, and shoes. We planned to stay a week, and I wanted to visit the local town as often as possible to avoid being around my mom and the dipshit she married.
The cabin eases into view, the wrap-around front porch serving as a nice place to relax. The windows are dark, and a sense of tiredness comes over me.
Adam parks the truck and looks at me, his eyes wandering up my legs again. I turn and stare him down, eyes digging into him.
“Why do you have to be such a fucking creep, Adam? Want me to call you Daddy? Want me to ride that cock?” I ask, feeling my anger start to boil.
The muscles in his jaw twitch and flex as he looks out the windshield, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
I know I’m getting under his skin, and it thrills me to no end.
Adam pulls the keys from the truck and opens the door, talking over his shoulder.