My daddy Lalit-1
Hello friends, welcome to Free Indian Sex Stories. This incest story is about me and my step dad. My new cheer squad routine wasn’t shaping well from my mind to the physical performance. Between the ideal and the reality, yeah Milan, English and cheering crossing paths in my mind; lies…
I mean I looked good in the full length mirror in my room, practicing alone; getting ready to present to my squad tomorrow; dressed in my cute cheer uniform, but it wasn’t gelling. It didn’t feel right.
Mmm, I thought, just like college guys, you see their big erect burgeon hard ons and think, wow, this is the ideal perfect cock that will deliver and they go, well they just go, haywire, in a premature ejaculation, probably my fault, my body is too hot or the dude delivers a few quick strokes in my warm tight pussy and its back to reality, the reality that college boys aren’t experienced enough, no staying power. Perpetual disappointment to date.
I was having doubts. I thought my moves were looking cheesy, hackneyed, very unoriginal and lacking genuine authenticity. I wanted the WOW factor, the je ne sais quoi cheer moment, when all eyes were on me. But it was proving as elusive as a quality orgasm with a young guy. Oh, don’t worry, I was looking after my own climaxes very nicely, but I really needed a dude to get me off, push me to my limits like a perfect split lift. You know the cheer move, the one that makes guys getter boners in the stands. It’s my signature move: I’m straddled with a girl on each side of me; holding my thigh and ankle and behind me; my back base team mate, well holding my butt in a straddle sit. It turns me on and I think it turns back base Hailey on too, I’ll find out one day. Fuck am I flexible, boy can I spread my cute legs. I’m all visual eye candy. So splayed and excited in a split lift, I always get slightly moist between my hidden girly lipettes. God can I keep my legs straight. No sag anywhere and my back so straight. No stray pubes to excite the letches either. I’m preened, plucked around the edges and nicely manicured between my legs as I display my puffy camel toe.
I desperately needed some appraisal. Someone to assess my new moves and deliver a judgment on me. Yes, I could take constructive criticism because I was cheer perfection. Somehow, I kept coming up with the ideal moves but I sensed today my timing was slightly off. Perceived failure was making me tense. I needed an evaluation of my proposed routine. Problem was I was home alone. My mum, a cheer diva in the late eighties, still had a good eye for what pushed the slutty cheer limits without crossing into the unacceptable. I wasn’t so sure about her eye or taste when it came to my new step-daddy of three months. Mum was enamoured of him, I was withholding judgment on ‘Lalit Darling’. Basically, we steered clear of each other.
I was flushed and sweaty. I actually looked liked I had just panted the living daylights out of my body in a beautiful orgasm. I needed a cool drink. I needed to rethink, tweak the moves and oh well, get feedback from my team tomorrow.
I bounded down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. Oh you know; excessive youthful energy and a huge house to yourself. Then I was stopped in my tracks.
“Oh Misha” said my step-daddy Lalit, enjoying the clinking swish of what looked like a double scotch on the rocks, his tie loosened and his top few shirt buttons undone, revealing plenty of previously unseen chest hair. “You’re home.”
“You’re home” I said, repeated like a dumb echo. Well I was surprised; he was never ever home this early.
He looked like he was on his second or third drink. Must have been a rough business day I’d guess. He was relieving his tension with drink. Mine was still coiled.
“Practicing” he said, but still giving me the careful but clearly deceitful step-daddy eye lust rove.
But I was a big girl at a just tender eighteen and understood his male cheating. He’d look, he wouldn’t ever touch. I loved playing the slitch but wasn’t now. I knew my allure; my rich sapphire blue cheer skirt was so thigh high and my matching top so womanly bust defining and my brunette mane was in an outrageously high pony tail and well yeah; I had my still flushed workout complexion and my fluttering Carolina blue eyes.
I innocently, yes truly I wasn’t flirting. I just wanted a cheer routine appraisal, nothing more and before I realised just how raunchy and cock tempting this was going to be for my step-daddy; I blurted out; “Yes practicing and I need a look over desperately.”
Well you know, I meant look over, as in a review of my moves, not a look over my bodily assets, that eye candy state was a given at half time in the upcoming weekend game, from a safe distance.
“Oh I’ll look you over” said Lalit swigging his scotch, hardly believing my words and reading everything suggestive and lewd and sexual into them. I saw the dirty look in his eyes.
Of course I blushed. God he was my step-daddy and had to be close to fifty. I mean he was in shape but; and so I jabbered and stammered; “Oh, I need you to watch my cheer moves…give me the full appraisal.”
Geez, I really wasn’t choosing my words carefully in my rushed desire to have any one give my new routine feedback.
“Sure” said Lalit, then gulped down the remains of his whiskey and added, “Here, Now?”
“I think the lounge” I said, “I need some space for my high kicks” and off I went quickly with Lalit following me at a harmless distance, or so I thought.
With my step-daddy safely on the lounge, I stood in front of him and started my routine; building from the basics to the proposed finale, a bit like working from foreplay through to a climax, you understand.
I hit a series of high V’s, my arms stretched up, my breasts rising up with me too. Elbows locked, wrists perfectly aligned. This was followed by sweeping low V’s, a dagger routine and a great touchdown thrust. All this was getting me worked up again into a normal sweat.
Lalit was watching, very interested, he looked hot, though probably for a different reason. Oh guys. I really should have waited till mum came home. She had an eye for the moves. Lalit was bloody perving, the bastard. What sort of appraisal could I expect from him?
As I did a couple of cartwheels I knew he was crotch focused the prick. I paused to get my breath back and do my bend back. My arms were back against my ears, my hands flat on the carpet and pointing back towards my toes. My legs were spread nicely balanced apart, my hips pushed forward and I a great curve through my back.
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