*Paws and Pleasure: My Stepdaughter's Command.*

I had a beautiful step daughter and she was built like her mother and her large breast would turn me on from the perfume smell and she had a habit leaving her pussy in the floor One night on the steam mirror said daddy I need your cock and I wipe off the mirror so her mother wouldn't see it And one weekend her mother went out of town for work and I was laying on the couch when she came and sat down and she lift my feet and put them in her lap and started rubbing my feet

The mirrors in our bathroom always fogged up when she showered—even the steam from her skin made me think about her mother, how my hands had slid over curves just like these. Same dark hair, same sharp waist, same deep-set eyes that flashed defiance when she knew I was watching. And that heavy scent of vanilla and something floral, something that clung to the air long after she left the room. I could smell it even now, through the thin fabric of my shirt, wrapping around my ankles like a second skin. She had always been bold. Liam cleared the mirror with a swift, exaggerated wipe, leaving a streak of condensation across the glass. The steam curled between us, thick and heavy. Then she pressed into it, the curve of her hip against the mirror’s cold surface, her fingers hooked in the front of my sweatpants, already unzipping them. "You’ve been hard for me all day," she murmured, her breath hot as she nudged the cup with her thumb. "Smell me. Can you tell what’s between my legs?" I didn’t need to. I knew. The way she tasted when she was like this—already slick, already *ready*—fuck, I could barely keep my hands off her around her fucking mother. Now that she was here, alone, with the door locked? Christ. Her nails scraped my chest as she dragged me to my feet. "And now I need you. Right here." Then she pulled me into the bathroom. The mirror wasn’t foggy anymore.

Liam didn’t wait for me to protest. She shoved my sweatpants down hard, freeing my cock with a sharp twirl of her wrist before dropping to her knees in the wet ceramic floor. The scent of her—sweeter than before, thicker—coated my shaft as she didn’t even bother with a hand. Just took me right in, her tongue rolling up my underside before sealing around the head in one long, bruising stroke. The pressure of her lips was almost enough. Almost. But not quite. She hummed against me, vibrating the shaft, then used her teeth—not gently. Just enough to mark, to remind me she wasn’t asking. Not anymore. Then she pulled back, leaving my cock wet, her jaw tight like she was fighting something. "Your turn." I watched as she stood, pushed her fingers into the waistband of her satin shorts, and yanked them down past her thighs. Her mother’s lace panties were already ruined, soaked. Liam didn’t wear any. Ever. "Now," she ordered, nudging her hip against my thigh. "Fuck *this*. Not the mirror." I didn’t need another invitation. My hands slid over her waist, over the softness of her stomach, up to the curve of her neck—right where the water from her shower still clung, dripping down in cold trails as I tilted her head. "Look at yourself," I demanded, pressing her back into the fogged glass again. The steam clung to her skin, to the heavy weight of her breasts, to the way her full lips parted as I lined up my cock. Her gaze was locked on mine, her own reflection distorted behind us. And then she dropped down, taking me in like she meant it.

The mirror distorted us both, steam swirling like a storm between skin and glass. Liam’s head tipped back against the surface, her throat opening wider with each brutal thrust, the chill of the condensation biting against where I hit her just right—deep, where the walls clenched and her nails dug into the wet tile. "Harder," she snapped, her legs trembling under the force of my grip on her hips. The mirror wasn’t the only thing fogging up now. "Or you’re not *really* fucking me." I growled, my fingers splaying over the flat of her stomach as I dragged her up and down my shaft, the sound of wet flesh and desperate breath filling the bathroom. She was already slick, but now—fuck—every time I buried myself inside her, I could feel her tightening, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she forced herself to take more. "You’re a liar, Liam," I taunted, my pace unrelenting. "You’ve been this wet since you got home. You want your mother to *see* it." Her breath hitched, eyes flashing as I thrust, the rhythm of her thighs hitting mine sending ripples up my spine. She whimpered against the mirror, her reflection a mess of flushed skin—only her mouth wasn’t. Not yet. Then she reached up, gripping the glass with slick palms and pressing back onto me, her body arched like she was trying to force the mirror into the shape of her spine. "I’ll *beg*, then," she hissed, and I knew she wouldn’t. Not for it. Not for me. She’d always been too fucking stubborn. I let go of her hips, the shift in balance sending her staggering forward just as I gripped her ass—hard—lifting her like she weighed nothing. She braced herself against the vanity, the mirror still fogging up in broken patches where our bodies pressed together, the cold biting against the heat of us. "Watch," I ordered, my voice rough. "Fucking *watch* your father fill you up." She didn’t argue. Just leaned forward, her ass high, eyes fixed on the way I drove into her over and over, her mother’s perfume—now a scent of sin—covering the air between us.

The glass was slick under my knuckles, the chill biting into Liam’s skin before I let her slide forward again, my grip bruising but unrelenting. She moaned, her throat raw and open as I stretched her out, legs shaking on the tiles, heels skidding in the puddle of her own arousal. My thumb pressed into the hollow of her lower back, just enough to make her arch further, exposing the way I hit her—deep, relentless. She was panting now, her fingers clawing at the edge of the vanity as I shifted my angle, the angle of the mirror forcing her to take me wider with each thrust. "Tell me," I demanded, my voice a growl as her walls squeezed around me. "How close are you?" She swallowed, the movement sending her chest heaving. "I don’t—*fuck*—I don’t know." The answer was a lie. Her body knew. The way her skin flushed, the way her breath came in ragged gasps, the way her nails dug into my thighs. She was so fucking close. I fucked her harder—each thrust drawing another stifled sob from her—until her thighs locked around my waist and she trembled against me. Her teeth were drawn tight into her lip, the blood welling, but she took it, took everything I gave her, her body shuddering around my shaft as I slammed home. "Look at it," I demanded, my voice rough as she came, her own reflection distorted by the steam. "Look at how *good* this looks." Her fingers finally dropped from the vanity as her knees hit the floor, the tiles cold as she braced herself, her body still writhing around mine. The mirror showed us, a mess of bodies and sin, my cock buried deep in her, her mouth twisted in a grimace of pleasure. She was *mine*—not just for tonight. In here. And I fucked her until she believed it, until the mirror no longer mattered. Until there was nothing but the slick heat of her body, the desperation of her breath, and the way she took me, took everything I had to give.

I watch her pure white creamy cum on my cock was the most beautiful thing I seen and then I turned her around and gave her a fucking doggie style

The cool tiles pressed against Liam’s palms as she collapsed forward, her breath still ragged, body trembling from the force of her own release. I didn’t hesitate—slid my hands under her arms, hauling her upright before twisting her body around. Her back hit the mirror again, the glass fogged but still cold against her flushed skin. I didn’t give her time to brace, just drove my cock into her from behind, the angle sharp and unyielding. She gasped, her fingers clawing at the porcelain as she pushed back against me, taking the stretch, the burn—*every fucking thing*. The steam swirled between us, breaking and reforming as I grabbed her hair, yanking her head back against the mirror. Her nails left marks in the tile, her thighs slick with wetness as I fucked her into it, the sound of bodies slapping together raw, desperate. She moaned, her voice muffled but no less hungry, her ass pressing against me like she needed me deeper, faster. I growled, my grip tightening—pull her back, shove her forward, each movement sending her gasping, her own cum coating my balls as I dragged her across the wet floor. The mirror didn’t matter now. Only the way her body arched, the way her breath came in broken sobs, the way she took me—*all* of me—in her perfect, untamed heat. "Look at us," I demanded, my teeth clenched as I slammed into her. "Look how *good* you take it." Liam’s reflection was a mess of flushed skin and desperate movements, her own lips parted in a silent scream as I fucked her into the tiles, her own arousal coating the glass between us. I didn’t slow down—just growled, my pace unrelenting, her body writhing under the force of it. "Fuck—" Her body tightened around me, another orgasm building already. She was mine, and I wasn’t stopping until she knew it, until she could feel me everywhere—inside her, *over* her. The steam fogged the mirror even more as I buried myself deep, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist. "Tell me," I demanded, my voice rough with the promise of more. "You're *mine*, aren't you?" Her answer was a sob as she came again, her body betraying the lie she might have tried to say.