God. What the fuck is happening to me?

I can't believe what just went down the other day. Was it Christina? Was it me? Was I just acting out and getting off on doing something completely fucked up and forbidden? Sleeping with my fucking stepmother?

Let's face it. Dad was never a good father. He was probably one of the most selfish and self-serving people I've ever really met. Boarding school for much of my fucking life and when I was home in the summer it was really me raising myself in a mansion while he indulged himself in his passions. That is until a few summers ago when Christina came into our lives.

From the very beginning he viewed her as just arm candy that would make it more acceptable for him to go places. He used her and expected her to use him.

But someone as fucking beautiful and gorgeous as Christina wasn't looking to use anyone. Poor fucking girl was looking for love.

Well, she certainly didn't find it with him.

And every day that I watched her, in those skimpy fucking dresses that hugged that heart shaped ass, I would feel my cock get hard and my blood pressure surge. I don't know how many fucking gallons of cum I've shot out as I jerked off to thoughts of fucking her.

Of putting her on all fours and just banging the shit out of her.

Of tying her up and making her beg.

Well...all that just happened yesterday.

And then she left.

"I need to go to Las Vegas," she said to me. I remember it clearly. Of course I played it off. Played it cool. Pretended I didn't fucking care.

But inside, I was dead.

I knew why she had to go to Vegas. She's starting her career. Trying to be free from the shadow of my father. She's got some convention.

She said what she does. Something in hospitality. I don't remember exactly what come to think of it. I'm sure though if I didn't have to contend with thinking about those fantastic fucking tits of hers and how they felt in my hands as I sucked on them, I'd remember. If I didn't have to think how fucking insanely amazing it was squeezing those ass cheeks every other thought wouldn't get drowned out.

But no. All I can think about is Christina.

"Hey David," I hear my name called out loud and I see Tracy. She's been coming by the fraternity for a while now. Total fucking slut. The way I treated Christina yesterday is what Tracy is in person. But the difference between the two women is that Christina only acts like that for me.

I hope.

Tracy has fucked almost all the guys in the house. I've always wanted to hit that but I've stopped myself.

Why?

I mean, I've fucked plenty of women in the three years I've been at Stanford. Why stop with Tracy?

You're not going to believe this, but I've always had more important shit to do.

She's wanted to also. She's been trying for so fucking long. But I've always been busy.

Except I guess...today.

Because today I'm just sitting on my couch in my room with my door open as I contemplate the marvelous depravity that occurred with my stepmother yesterday.

What would happen if I told Tracy about it? Would she blanch and run away?

Probably not. She would still want a piece of my body. My fucking man meat. My chiseled abs. My amazing pecs. My entire body is built for fucking. I think I demonstrated that to you the other day with Christina.

"You seem to be a bit lonely," Tracy says, walking into my room and closing my door. She's got a wicked gleam in her eyes and her short shorts leave very little to my fucking imagination. I look up at her red tank top — one size too small that makes her tits pop out and I think how any other time I'd be fucking all over that by now.

But right now, it's like no other women exists for me.

"I'm lonely too," Tracy says and walks over. I am acutely aware of the smell of her perfume and the rise and fall of her breasts.

She sits down next to me and I try to give her an interested smile.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I should be all over this shit by now. I am President of this fraternity. I've got more ass in my time at college than most guys will in their whole lives. I should be wrapping my arms around her and parting her legs. I should be stroking her pussy and kissing her fucking neck.

I should not be thinking about Christina.

Tracy edges closer and puts her hand on my thigh. She lets it sit there.

"Do you want to have some fun with me, David?" she asks. Her eyes gleam with lust and her mouth is twisted in a salacious "O." I know I could make her fucking come. Over and fucking over again. She wouldn't be able to walk properly. She'd totter out of my room and go collapse on the couch in the living room, her breathing only returning to normal a day later. She'd have memories that would stay a lifetime. She'd be ruined for other men and would keep coming back to me over and over to ride my fucking cock.

But I don't do that.

I don't do anything as she moves her hand to grab my thick, 12-inch cock that's throbbing in my pants as I keep thinking about Christina.

"Looks like this bad boy is already set to go," she says with a smile.

She's right.

I am set to go.

I'm set to go to Vegas. I need to find Christina.

And I need to fuck her. Again.

The rock hard desire that I got for her wasn't sated at all by that one day yesterday.

If anything, it's gotten worse.

And I need to fucking quench that thirst before I go crazy.