I’m a young girl in my early twenties, still living at home with my mom and stepdad. Mom works a lot of night shifts, so most evenings it’s just the two of us in the house. For months I had been noticing the way he looked at me. It wasn’t normal fatherly looks. When I walked around the house in tight shorts or a thin top, his eyes would stay on my body longer than they should. He would stare at my legs, my ass, and my breasts. He tried to act normal, but I could feel the hunger in his eyes.

I didn’t feel scared or angry. Instead, it started turning me on. I began wondering what he would do if he had the chance. So I decided to test him one night.

That Friday evening, I came home late. Before entering the house, I sprayed some acholic drink on my clothes and in my mouth so I would smell strongly of alcohol. I messed up my hair and practiced staggering a little. Then I opened the door.

He was sitting in the living room. I stumbled in, acting drunk. I smelled of alcohol and walked unsteadily.

“Hey…” I said, dragging my words. “I’m back.”

He looked up quickly. His eyes widened when he saw me. “Are you okay? You smell like you’ve been drinking.”

I giggled stupidly and swayed on my feet. “I’m fine… just a little… tipsy. Don’t worry.”

I didn’t wait for him to say more. I headed straight to my room, staggering down the hallway. When I got inside, I left the door slightly open on purpose. Then I dropped down on the floor like I couldn’t make it to the bed. I lay there helpless on my back, legs slightly spread, one arm over my eyes. My short skirt had ridden up high on my thighs. I stayed completely still, breathing slowly like I had passed out.

My heart was pounding. I waited.

I heard the TV turn off. Then footsteps are coming down the hallway. They stopped outside my room. For a long time, there was only silence. He was watching me.

“Sweetheart?” he called softly. “You can’t sleep on the floor like that.”

I didn’t answer. I stayed limp and quiet.

He pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside. I could feel him standing over me, looking down at my body. My skirt was high, showing my white panties. My chest rose and fell with my breathing.

He whispered to himself, “She’s completely out…”

His hand touched my leg first. Just a light touch, like he was testing. When I didn’t move, he got bolder. He ran his hand up my thigh, under my skirt. His fingers brushed against my panties. I stayed perfectly still.

He knelt down beside me on the floor. His breathing was getting heavier. He gently lifted my top up, exposing my breasts. He touched them softly at first, then squeezed them. My nipples got hard under his fingers. He played with them for a while, pinching lightly.

His hand moved lower again. He pulled my panties to the side and touched my pussy. I was already wet. He rubbed my clit slowly in circles. A small moan almost escaped me, but I held it in. His finger slid inside me easily.

He kept fingering me on the floor for a long time. Then I heard him unzip his pants. The sound made my body tingle with excitement.

He moved between my legs, spreading them wider. I felt the warm head of his dick rubbing against my wet pussy. He entered me while I lay there pretending to be drunk and unconscious.

He groaned quietly when he was fully inside. “So tight… fuck…”

He started moving. Slow fuck at first, careful not to be too rough. But as time passed, he got more confident. He fucked me harder on the floor of my room. The sound of his body slapping against mine was clear. He held my hips and drove deeper.

I stayed limp the whole time, letting him use me. It felt so wrong but so exciting. Knowing he thought I was too drunk to know what was happening turned me on even more.

He changed positions. He lifted my legs over his shoulders and fucked me deeper. My body moved helplessly with each thrust. He was breathing fast and groaning softly.

He leaned down and sucked on my breasts while still pumping into me. His fuck became faster and more desperate. I could tell he was close.

Suddenly he pulled out. He stroked himself quickly and came all over my stomach and breasts. Thick, warm cum landed on my skin. He groaned loudly as he finished.

After he came, he stayed there for a minute, breathing hard. Then he seemed to realize what he had done. He quickly got up and went to the bathroom. He returned with a warm towel and gently cleaned his cum off my body. He pulled my panties back into place, fixed my skirt and top, and even put a pillow under my head.

He closed the door softly and went to his own room.

I stayed on the floor for a while longer, my body still buzzing. When I was sure he was in bed, I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself properly, and got into my bed. I touched myself thinking about everything that just happened and came hard.

The next morning, I acted like I had a bad hangover. I walked out of my room looking tired and confused.

“I drank too much last night,” I said, rubbing my head. “I don’t even remember coming home properly.”

He looked very guilty. He avoided my eyes and kept saying, “It’s okay, just be careful next time.” He acted extra nice, but I could see the shame on his face.

He never tried anything again after that night. He probably still feels guilty, thinking he took advantage of me while I was drunk. He has no idea that I planned the whole thing. I pretended to be drunk because I knew he had been watching me. I wanted him to finally do it.

That was the only time my stepdad ever fucked me. It happened right there on the floor of my room while I pretended to be passed out. And even though it was just once, I still think about it often when I’m alone.