Seductive Tides of Forbidden Craving 💋
Links to chapters: Chapter 1 | Jump to Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Whispers from the Dunes
The salty tang of the ocean hung heavy in the air as I stepped out of Marcus’s battered pickup truck, the gravel crunching under my sandals like brittle bones. We’d driven three hours from the city, fleeing the grind of my college dorm and his endless construction sites, chasing this rented beach cottage on the outer banks. Mom had bailed last minute—some flu bug that left her hacking into her pillow back home. Just me and Dad now, alone with the endless crash of waves that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.
I stretched, my sundress clinging to the sweat-damp curve of my hips, auburn waves tumbling wild over my shoulders. Twenty-two and finally home for summer, but everything felt charged, electric. Marcus slammed the truck door, his broad shoulders flexing under a faded tee shirt stretched tight across his chest. Salt-and-pepper stubble shadowed his jaw, those piercing blue eyes flicking over me a beat too long. Rugged at forty-eight, built like the heavy machinery he commanded—thick arms, callused hands that could crush or caress.
“Grab the cooler, Aria,” he grunted, voice like gravel under tires, but there was a huskiness there, something new. I bent to hoist it, feeling his gaze burn into the sway of my ass, the dress riding up just enough to tease. Heat bloomed low in my belly. God, he’d always been the strong silent type, protector. But lately? Those stolen glances at family dinners, his hand lingering on my knee under the table. Forbidden thoughts had started creeping in during late-night study sessions—his rough fingers tracing my skin, that massive bulge I’d glimpsed once changing in the laundry room.
Inside the cottage, wooden floors creaked underfoot, sea air mingling with the faint musty scent of old linens. One bedroom, queen bed staring us down like a dare. “Storm’s coming,” Marcus said, peering out the window at bruised clouds rolling in. “Mom booked this dump. Guess we’re roughing it.”
I swallowed, heart thudding. “It’s fine. Cozy.” My voice came out breathier than planned. He dropped the bags, muscles rippling, and for a second, our eyes locked. Something raw flickered there—hunger, maybe guilt. He broke it first, heading to the kitchenette for beers. I unpacked, fingers trembling as I hung my bikini, imagining him peeling it off.
Sunset painted the dunes gold as we cracked those beers on the porch. Waves roared, foam kissing the shore like eager lips. “You’ve grown up, kiddo,” he murmured, eyes tracing my cleavage where the dress dipped low. “Too damn seductive in that dress. Turning heads everywhere.”
I flushed, nipples tightening under the fabric. Seductive. The word hung between us, heavy as the humid air. “Just trying to catch some rays, Dad.” But my smile was sly, legs crossing slow, bare thigh brushing his jeans. His Adam’s apple bobbed, beer forgotten. Tension coiled tight, the first crack in the dam.
A Stirring in the Salt Air
Night fell fast, stars pricking the velvet sky. We grilled burgers—smoke curling lazy, meat sizzling with juices that dripped fat pops onto coals. His laugh rumbled deep when I teased him about his “dad bod,” but there was no give; he was solid oak, hands flipping patties with precision that made me wonder how they’d handle me.
After, we walked the beach, barefoot in cool sand that gritty-sucked at my toes. Moonlight silvered the water, shells crunching sharp. His arm brushed mine, accidental at first, then not. “Missed this,” he said soft. “You away at school… house feels empty.” His fingers grazed my waist, steadying me over a dune. Fire licked my core. I leaned in, seductive curve of my hip pressing his side. He tensed, breath hitching salt-sharp against my neck.
Back at the cottage, thunder grumbled distant. “Shower’s tiny,” he warned, stripping off his shirt. Broad chest dusted gray, scars from worksite nicks mapping his skin like erotic tattoos. I bit my lip, vision blurring to him soaping that chiseled torso. “Your turn after.”
Water pounded hot as I lathered, suds sliding over full breasts, down the flare of my hips to my aching slit. Fingers dipped, circling my swollen pearl, imagining his tongue. A moan slipped out, echoing off tiles. Did he hear? The door creaked—him, maybe. Paranoia spiked my pulse higher.
Chapter 2: Currents of Longing
Morning sun sliced through salt-crusted blinds, gilding the rumpled sheets where I’d tossed all night, body thrumming with unmet need. Marcus was already up, coffee brewing pungent and black. He wore swim trunks low on hips, V of muscle leading to a bulge that stirred illicit dreams. “Beach?” he asked, eyes lingering on my sleep-tousled hair, tank top clinging translucent to pebbled nipples.
We hit the surf, waves cold-slapping my thighs as I dove under breakers. He followed, powerful strokes cutting water. Surfaced close, water sheeting off his chest, droplets beading like sweat after a fuck. “Race you to the buoy,” I challenged, seductive laugh bubbling up. He grinned wolfish, lunging after.
I lost on purpose, letting him catch me mid-wave, arms wrapping strong around my waist. Chest to chest, his hardness nudged my belly—thick, insistent through wet fabric. “Cheater,” I gasped, but ground back subtle, slick folds parting under my bikini bottom. His groan vibrated through me, hands gripping my ass cheeks, kneading firm flesh. Sea muffled our ragged breaths, salt stinging my eyes like tears of restraint.
“Aria…” Rough whisper, beard scraping my shoulder as he nuzzled. Guilt flashed in his eyes—wife upstairs in his mind—but lust won, hips rolling slow. My clit throbbed against his shaft, juices mixing with ocean brine. “We can’t,” he muttered, even as fingers dug bruises into my hips.
We broke apart panting, swimming back like nothing. But everything simmered. Lunch was sandwiches on the porch, sand gritting teeth, mayo slick as cum. His foot hooked mine under the table, calf stroking thigh. “That bikini… fuck, it’s criminal,” he growled low. Seductive didn’t cover it; I was a siren, pulling him under.
Tension in the Tide Pools
Afternoon, we explored tide pools—starfish pulsing wet, anemones quivering like exposed clits. He knelt close, explaining currents, breath hot on my neck. I “slipped,” tumbling into his lap on jagged rocks. His cock tented hard against my cleft, grinding instinctive. “Dad,” I whimpered, rocking shameless, bikini strings taut.
“Jesus, baby girl.” His hand cupped my mound through fabric, palm grinding my button. Fingers pressed the seam, dipping into damp heat. I mewled, nails raking his thighs. “So fucking wet already. For me?” Nodding frantic, I humped his hand, waves lapping our feet like applauding voyeurs.
He yanked the bikini aside, thick finger breaching my fluttering entrance. Velvet walls clenched greedy, sucking him knuckle-deep. “Tight little pussy, dripping Daddy’s fingers.” Vulgar words from his clean-cut mouth ignited me. He pumped lazy, thumb swirling my nub, free hand pinching my nipple through the top—sharp twist sending sparks to my toes.
Orgasm built savage, crashing like breakers. “Cum for me, seductive little tease.” Stars burst, cunt spasming, squirting arc into the pool below. He finger-fucked me through it, knuckles slick-shining with my cream. Pulled out slow, licked clean with a moan that curled my toes anew.
“Not here,” he rasped, eyes wild. “But tonight… fuck.”
Chapter 3: Storm’s Raw Embrace 🔥
Storm hit like a freight train by dusk—wind howling banshee through shutters, rain lashing in sheets that smelled of ozone and brine. Power flickered, died, plunging the cottage into primal dark lit only by lightning veins cracking the sky. Candles guttered on the table, wax dripping slow like pre-cum.
We huddled under one blanket on the couch, bodies pressed inevitable. His heat seeped through thin clothes, erection a steel rod against my thigh. “Cold?” he murmured, arm snaking around, palm flat on my belly. Skin pebbled, not from chill.
“Hotter than hell,” I breathed, twisting to straddle him bold. Dress hiked, bare pussy kissing his bulge. Friction electric, grinding circles that smeared my slick on his trunks. “Dad… Marcus… need you.” His name on my tongue tasted taboo-sweet.
Hands roamed feral—mine clawing his chest hair, his shoving dress up to maul my tits. “These perfect fucking udders,” he snarled, mouth latching a nipple, sucking hard enough to hollow cheeks. Teeth grazed, tugging peaks to aching points. I arched, yowling over thunder.
He flipped us, pinning with weight that crushed delicious. Trunks shoved down, his cock sprang free—veiny monster, purple head weeping clear nectar. Smell musky-male, intoxicating. “Suck it, baby. Taste what you do to Daddy.” On knees gritty-floor, I engulfed him, lips stretching obscene around girth. Salty pre-beads burst on tongue, shaft velvet-steel pulsing.
Gagged as he fucked my face, balls slapping chin wet. Drool cascaded, mixing tears from throat-stuffing. “Good girl, throat that dick.” Fingers knotted my hair, guiding deep. I hummed vibration, tongue lashing underside vein till he yanked free, cock slick-spit shining.
Lightning in Our Veins
Bent over couch, ass high, he ate me like starving. Beard rasping inner thighs, tongue spearing my hole, slurping nectar loud over storm roar. “Sweetest cunt, tangy as sea pussy.” Fingers spread cheeks, rimming my pucker—shock of pleasure lancing my spine. Probed shallow, then thumb pressing as tongue lashed clit relentless.
I shattered screaming, gush flooding his chin, thighs quaking. He rose snarling, cockhead kissing my folds. One brutal thrust buried balls-deep, stretching me raw. “Fuck, vise-grip. Daddy’s hole now.” Pounded merciless, hips slapping ass echo-thunder. Balls whipped my pearl, dragging fire.
Positions blurred—me riding reverse, tits bouncing hypnotic; him from behind, spanking crimson handprints. “Cum on this fat cock, squirt again.” I did, vision whiting, walls milking him vise-tight. He roared, flooding me—scalding ropes painting womb white. Pulled out mid-spurt, painting ass cheeks pearly ropes. Collapsed tangled, sweat-salt skin sticking, aftershocks twitching.
“My seductive angel,” he whispered, kissing forehead tender amid chaos. Guilt flickered—Mom’s face ghosting—but lust drowned it, bond sealing irrevocable.
Chapter 4: Dawn’s Hungry Reckoning
Sunrise bled pink through windows, gilding our naked sprawl on the bed we’d finally claimed. Cum-crusted thighs stuck sheets, air thick with sex musk and coffee he’d brewed post-storm. Marcus stirred, cock half-hard prodding my hip. “Morning, trouble.” Grin wicked, hand cupping my mound possessive.
I purred, spreading wide. “Still hungry, Dad?” His fingers delved, churning last night’s load into froth. “Sloppy seconds from myself. Greedy pussy.” Licked fingers clean, eyes devouring my sprawl—curvy hips flaring to heavy breasts, auburn bush glistening.
Shower together, steam fogging glass. Water cascaded, soap slicking his paws over every inch. Fingered my ass under spray—two knuckles twisting, burn-pleasure blooming. “Ever taken it here?” Shook head, whimpering as he scissored. “Soon, baby. Stretch this virgin rosebud.”
Dried rough towels, he bent me kitchen counter, tongue rimming deep. Lube from bag—prepared?—fingers prepping thorough. “Relax, seductive minx.” Cockhead nudged pucker, popping past ring with pop. Inch-by-burn, till seated flush, balls kissing cunt.
Slow rocks built to frenzy, my hand fisting pussy as he reamed. “Double stuffed like whore.” Orgasms chained—anal clench triggering cunt squirt spraying tiles. He erupted, painting bowels hot jets. Pulled free gape-weeping white, fingers scooping to feed my mouth. Tasted filthy-divine.
Echoes of Surrender
Beach again, but changed—his hand in my bikini bottom casual, fingers circling as we walked. Whispered filthy plans: “Tonight, fist that cunt. Make it gape for Daddy.” Shiver wracked me, seductive power surging. I owned him now.
Dinner candlelit—steak bloody, juices pooling like cunt cream. Fed each other bites, tongues licking forks obscene. Wine loosened tongues: “Always wanted this. Since you flowered.” Confession cracked me open, tears mixing lust. “Love you, Dad. Fuck Mom out of your head.”
Night fell, bed our altar. Fisting foreplay—lube slick, hand curling slow, wrist-deep stretching obscene. “Look how you devour me.” Cried out, cumming fist-squeeze, then his cock in the void. Rode to oblivion, creampie second of day.
Chapter 5: Tides of Deeper Sin
Days blurred hedonistic haze—morning blowjobs waking him cock-hard, cum gulped like cream; afternoons fucking dune-shadowed, sand abrading knees raw. His belt marked my ass welts-red, pain-pleasure sting. “Punish my seductive slut daughter.”
One eve, porch swing creaking, I straddled reverse, cunt impaling slow while stars wheeled. His hands milked tits, pinching till milked fantasy. “Breed you, fill till bloated.” Imagined swell belly with his spawn, orgasm ripping feral.
Guilt surfaced rare—phone call from Mom, cheerful oblivious. He hung abrupt, fucking anger out on me doggy, snarling “Mine now.” Emotional gut-punch, but chained tighter. Vulnerability post-fuck: him holding tender, whispering futures impossible yet craved.
Currents Converging
Last night, full moon tidal pull. 69 on balcony, waves chorus—his tongue vacuum clit, mine throat-balling him balls-deep. Swallowed load throat-direct, then mounted anal, pussy grinding his mouth. Dual peaks shattered us screaming wind-whipped.
After, curled porch-wrapped, his fingers tracing my seductive curves lazy. “Can’t go back, Aria. You’re my everything.” Tears pricked—truth brutal-beautiful. Bond forged fire-irrevocable.
Chapter 6: Eternal Surge 💋
Drive home dawned reluctant, truck cab thick unspoken promise. His hand thigh-high, fingering idle as miles blurred. Pulled scenic overlook—hiked woods, fucked tree-rough bark scraping back. Missionary intense, eyes locked soul-deep, creampie final beach-born load.
Home loomed, but rules shifted. Midnight visits plotted, risks sharpening thrill. “Our secret ocean,” he murmured, kissing deep salt-tangue. I smiled wicked—seductive tide we’d ride forever, crashing boundaries to foam.
Pulled into driveway, hearts synced wave-roar eternal. Door shut, but fire? Just ignited wilder.
