Shoreline Sissy: Marcus Ravages His Femboy Toy
Water lapped against the pilings under our rented beach house, that salty tang hanging thick in the air like a promise of something filthy. Mom was off on her conference cruise, leaving me, Alex, alone with Marcus—my stepdad, this hulking beast of a man with sun-bleached buzzed hair, tree-trunk arms from years swinging hammers on construction sites, and a perpetual five-o’clock shadow that scraped like sandpaper. Me? Slim as a reed at 21, college dropout with waist-length raven waves I loved twirling into loose curls, painted lips always glossy, and a body shaved smooth except for that pathetic little clit between my thighs. I craved the degradation he dished out, even when it left me limping.
Links for quick dives: Chapter 1: Dawn Pounding | Chapter 2: Sandy Seduction | Jump to Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Final Breed
Chapter 1: Dawn’s Brutal Awakening 🔥
I woke before the sun peeked over the dunes, my sissy hole already throbbing from last night’s frenzy. The ceiling fan whirred lazy circles, stirring the humid air that smelled of seaweed and sweat-soaked sheets. Marcus snored like a chainsaw beside me, his massive chest rising and falling, that beast between his legs no doubt plotting its morning rampage. Last night replayed in my head—him dragging me from the deck after grilling steaks, slamming me over the railing with waves crashing below, no warning, just his callused hands yanking my bikini bottoms aside and burying his fat cock in my guts. He’d grunted like an animal, flooding me till it leaked down my thighs in sticky rivers, then shoved me off like trash. God, I loved it.
Slipping from the king bed, my bare feet padded across cool hardwood to the en-suite bath. Mirror fogged from my shaky breaths. I douched deep, squirting floral lube up my ass till it gurgled out, stretching with a slim vibe to prep for his girth. Painted my nails cherry red, slipped into sheer pink thigh-highs and a tiny lace thong that barely cupped my useless clit. Spritzed vanilla body mist over my perky B-cups and smooth bubble butt. By 6:45, I was back, kneeling at the bed’s edge, heart hammering.
Marcus stirred at 7 sharp, eyes cracking open, locking on me like prey. “Fuckin’ eager slut,” he rasped, voice gravel from sleep. His hand shot out, fisting my curls, yanking me onto the mattress. Sheets tangled as he flipped me belly-down, ass up. No kisses, no tease—just spat on his palm, slicked his veiny nine-incher, and rammed home. Pain exploded, white-hot, my ring burning as he split me wide. “Tight little boycunt, made for daddy’s dick,” he growled, hips snapping like a piston.
I clawed the pillows, moaning into the fabric, tasting salt from tears and sweat. The bedframe banged the wall in rhythm, slap-slap-slap echoing with the distant surf. His balls smacked my taint, heavy and musky, sweat dripping from his hairy sack onto my stockings. “Scream for it, bitch,” he barked, pinning my wrists. I did—shrill, desperate wails begging, “Harder, daddy! Wreck my fag hole!” Minutes blurred; clock ticked from 7:05 to 7:28. Finally, he roared, cock swelling, hosing my depths with thick ropes that cooled instantly against my fevered walls.
He yanked out with a wet pop, cum farting from my gaping ass. “Clean up, princess. Pancakes in twenty, extra syrup.” Rolled off, whistling to the shower. I waddled out, thighs quivering, tissues sopping the mess, hating how my clit twitched in afterglow. Ass plugged with his seed, I fried bacon downstairs, the sizzle masking my whimpers. He lumbered in shirtless, pawing my exposed cheeks under the short apron. “Good girl serving daddy breakfast.” Fingertips teased my thong, dipping into the leak. I shivered, plating his stack dripping butter.
Chapter 2: Sandy Seduction 💋
Post-meal glow lingered as Marcus tossed me keys to his truck. “Beach run, sissy. Pack the cooler. Wear that slingshot bikini—show off for daddy.” Sun blazed by 10 AM, parking lot baking the sand. The private stretch stretched empty, dunes shielding us from prying eyes. I slathered coconut oil over my lithe frame, nipples pebbling under the string straps that framed my hole like an invitation. Marcus in board shorts, bulge obscene, slapped my ass red as we trudged to the water.
Waves nibbled our toes, cool foam swirling up my calves. He tackled me playful at first, pinning me face-down in shallow surf, grinding his hard-on against my crack. Salt stung my eyes, sea roaring approval. “Gonna fuck you right here, where sharks might watch,” he murmured, voice husky over the crash. Fingers hooked my bikini aside, probing my still-slick hole. I arched, gasping as two digits scissored deep, churning his morning load into froth.
“Please, daddy, not out here,” I whined half-hearted, clit leaking pre into the sand. But my hips bucked back. He laughed dark, flipping me onto hands-knees, doggy in the surf. Cockhead nudged, then speared—tidal thrust burying him balls-deep. Water rushed in with each pound, bubbling around us, gritty sand abrading my knees. His gut pressed my back, sweat and ocean mingling in sharp brine scent. “Take it, beach whore. Milk daddy’s load.” Grunts mixed with my soprano yelps, seashells crunching under palms.
A new twist hit—distant voices over the dune. Spring breakers? Panic spiked my pleasure; I clenched harder. Marcus didn’t stop, throttling my throat from behind, forcing gurgles. “Shut up and cum.” Voices faded; he exploded, painting my colon white again. Pulled out, shoved my face into surf. “Rinse, cumdump.” I sputtered, tasting seawater and shame, body humming. Back at towels, he fed me grapes from the cooler, thumbing my ruined lipstick. “You’re dripping sand and spunk. Perfect.”
Afternoon haze, we napped under umbrella. His hand wandered constant, pinching nipples, fingering idly. Phone buzzed—my old college buddy Riley texting nudes. Marcus snatched it, smirking. “This twink want your ass? Show him daddy owns it.” Snapped a pic of my bikini-stuffed hole oozing, sent with “Property of Marcus.” Riley’s shocked reply buzzed back; Marcus laughed, pocketing it. Jealous fire licked my belly. New scene: I straddled him then, grinding openly, whispering, “Only yours, daddy. Punish me later?” He grinned wolfish. 🔥
Chapter 3: Happy Hour Humiliation
Sunset bled orange across the horizon as we hiked back, my bikini chafing raw spots, ass clenching to hold his gifts. House glowed welcoming, grill smoke curling lazy. “Shower off, slut. Frilly shit for cocktails—minidress, garters, heels.” I obeyed upstairs, steam clouding the glass as I scrubbed sand from every crease, soaping my tender pucker till it winked pink. Dressed slutty: crimson babydoll clinging curves, fishnets laddering up thighs, strappy stilettos clicking. Mirror preened me gorgeous, smoky eyes begging cock.
Down at 6 PM sharp, Marcus lounged on deck lounger, bourbon sweating in glass. Ocean whispered conspiracies. I minced over, hips swaying hypnotic, fixing his whiskey sour—tart lemon bite, clinking ice. Perched beside, his paw claimed my nape sudden, forcing my head to lap at the tent in his shorts. “Thirsty, bitch?” Zipper rasped; monster sprang free, pre beading the slit. Knees hit teak decking, rough on stockings. “Suck like a pro. Deeper this time.”
Mouth stretched aching, jaw protesting as he skullfucked relentless. Gags wrenched throat, drool cascading chin to cleavage, mascara rivers. His pubes ground my nose, inhaling his sweaty ballsack funk—musk and sun. “Glurk-glurk on daddy’s meat, faggot. Better than that Riley pussyboy.” Fingers twisted hair anchors, pistoning my face like a fleshlight. Salty pre coated tongue, veins pulsing against cheeks. I hollowed, slurping desperate for air, clit straining cage I’d slipped on earlier.
Ten minutes of torment; he swelled, bellowing “Swallow every drop!” Torrents jetted, thick as yogurt, burning throat. Gulp-gulp, not spilling a pearl. He held me impaled till soft, then patted cheek sticky. “Good cocksleeve. Fix your face; grill’s hot. Steak rare, like your mangled hole.” Dinner devoured on deck, steak juices mingling bourbon on lips. He poured me wine—mom hated that—arm slung possessive, fingers drumming my thigh. Movie queued inside: some raunchy flick, but halfway he yanked my dress up, bent me over coffee table. Quickie plunge, no lube but spit and spit-roast remnants. Fucked through credits, cumming silent this time, plugging with buttplug from beach bag. “Wear it till bed.”
Interlude Twist: Midnight Bath Betrayal
New low hit post-movie. “Bath time, princess. Pamper daddy.” Clawfoot tub steamed jasmine suds. I straddled his lap reverse, soaping his barrel chest, nipples hard as pebbles under my nails. His cock nudged my plug, grinding. “Ride it slow.” Popped out, sank inch by inch—blissful stretch, water sloshing tits-deep. Bounced languid, moans echoing tiles, bubbles popping salty on skin. But he flipped control, bouncing me brutal, waves cresting tub edge. “Who’s my cumrag?” Slaps rained on ass, red welts blooming. New dialogue twist: “Beg for piss, toilet boy.” Heat flooded my bowels mid-orgasm—his piss mixing loads, filthy warmth. I shattered, clenching milkless. Drained us both, he hosed me down outside showerhead, cold spray shocking. 💋
Chapter 4: Night of Endless Ravaging
Tub tale lingered as we crashed master suite, French doors ajar to symphony of crickets and breakers. No panties order: satin nightie whispered over skin, lube bottle clutched like lifeline. Marcus toyed gentle at first—nibbling lobes, fingers circling plugged rosebud. “Best fuckmom’s ever brought home.” Rolled me missionary, legs to ears, folding supple. Plug tugged free, cock replaced seamless. Slow grinds built to frenzy, headboard thudding walls nonexistent neighbors heard.
Sweat sheened us, room reeking sex and brine. Tasted his pits lapping salt, tongue tracing hairy treasure trail to root. He hammered varied—prone bone squishing plug-lube fart, side saddle churning froth audible. Hours blurred: 11 PM first load doggy, belly full bloating. Midnight spoon, lazy pumps erupting quiet. 2 AM wakeup growl, cowgirl me bouncing, tits flopping hypnotic till he bred upward. Achy raw by 4, yet begged more. “Use me, sir—your sissy urinal, cum factory.”
Flashback pierced haze: First night here, arrival unpacked tension. I’d pranced kitchenette cooking pasta, microskirt flashing garters. He’d cornered me sink, bent over dishes clattering, raped my mouth first—throat bulge visible. Then ass, pasta sauce smeared cheeks. “Mom’s trip gift.” Ignored my prep pleas. Now, wiser, lubed constant. Dawn neared, his stamina myth—five loads by cockclock. Internal war raged: self-loathing at craving abuse, thrill at cash-stuffed wallet he tossed post-fuck. “Five hundred, whore. Spoil friends tomorrow.”
Decision crystallized: I’d embrace concubine role. No escape from this shore-side sin.
Chapter 5: Breeding Dawn and Beyond
Final alarm: 5:30 AM, sky pinking east. Marcus poked insistent at my thigh, semi-hard summoning. Rolled prone instinct, ass presented arched. No words needed—slick dive, rutting sleepy savage. Sheets gritty sand, pillow muffled cries. Last night’s piss-load squelched out with each withdrawal, puddling thighs. “One more breed before work, toy.” Construction site called; he chased sunrise orgasm, flooding copious, overflow sheeting bed.
Yanked free, slapped ass farewell. “Day off for you—beach again? Clean this pigsty.” Whistled shower-bound. I lay spent, body map of bruises bites welts—nipples sucked swollen, hole puffy prolapsed slight. Tasted copper blood from nipped lip, smelled cumcrust everywhere. Phone lit: Riley’s furious texts—”Wtf stepdick owns you?” Smirked deleting. Friends date planned: mall spree on daddy’s dime, flaunting new lingerie haul.
Showered endless, douched marathon purging filth. Dressed casual femme: sundress fluttering, thong cradling sore clit. Breakfast solo, pancakes cold comfort. Heart swelled twisted love-hate. Mom returns Tuesday; till then, his insatiable property. Waddled deck watching him drive off, truck kicking gravel. Waves mocked my limp. Craved next poke already. Rationalized: “Sissies serve. This hole built for breeding.” Beach called, sand promising more seduction. Tomorrow? Public riskier. But that’s future filth. For now, plugged anew, I awaited his 6 PM conquest. Shoreline sissy, forever ravished. 💋🔥
