Chapter 3

The U.S. team was facing one of their toughest group stage matches yet, and the atmosphere in our living room felt heavier than ever. The projector cast a soft, flickering glow across the walls, turning the space into an intimate cocoon. Mom had been gone for over a week now, and the house had settled into a rhythm that felt both comforting and dangerously addictive.

Johan was already seated in the center of the couch when I walked in. He wore nothing but those loose gray athletic shorts again, his powerful thighs spread slightly, muscles relaxed yet imposing. The sight of his bare chest—rising and falling with steady breaths—made my stomach tighten.

"Miranda," he called softly, his voice warm and low. "Come here, baby. Sit with Daddy tonight. We need to watch this big game just like we did yesterday."

My heart fluttered nervously. Part of me wanted to sit in my original spot on the sofa, to create some distance and reclaim a shred of normalcy. But my body was already moving toward him, drawn like a magnet. I climbed onto his lap, this time straddling one of his thick, muscular thighs more fully. The moment my soft ass settled down, I felt the unmistakable heat of his cock beneath me.

It wasn't fully hard yet—but it was heavy, thick, and warm, resting against my barely-covered pussy like a sleeping beast waiting to awaken. A quiet gasp escaped my lips.

Johan let out a satisfied hum as he wrapped his strong arms around my waist, pulling my back flush against his bare chest. His chin rested gently on my shoulder, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words vibrating through his chest into my back. The praise sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.

The match started. For the first ten minutes, we stayed relatively still. His big hands rested innocently on my bare thighs, thumbs making slow, gentle circles on my smooth skin. Each stroke sent little sparks traveling up my legs and straight to my core. I tried to focus on the game, but my attention kept drifting to the growing hardness beneath me.

As the match grew more intense, Johan's body heat seemed to increase. His cock slowly thickened beneath me, gradually swelling and hardening until it pressed firmly between my ass cheeks, the thick shaft nestled right against my pussy lips through the thin barrier of my panties.

I bit my lip hard. This is wrong… This is so wrong… He's my stepfather.

But I didn't move away. If anything, I subtly shifted my weight, pressing my soft, warm pussy more firmly down onto that growing hardness. Johan's breath hitched. His lips were now dangerously close to my ear.

He whispered, his hot breath brushing my sensitive skin with every word. "They need to push forward more… Can you feel the pressure building, baby?"

His voice was intimate, like he was sharing a secret meant only for the two of us. Every syllable sent warm air across my neck, making me tremble. I nodded weakly, pretending to watch the screen while my mind spun.

His hands continued their slow exploration—sliding slightly higher up my thighs, then back down, then a little higher again. The rough texture of his palms against my smooth skin felt electric. My breathing grew shallow. I could feel my nipples hardening against the soft fabric of his jersey.

Johan's cock was now fully erect—a massive, burning rod trapped between my ass and his body. It throbbed steadily, the thick head nudging against my soaked panties with every small movement he made while reacting to the game. I was getting wetter by the minute. My juices slowly leaked out, soaking the thin material and beginning to coat the front of his shorts where his cock pressed so insistently against me.

"You're so warm tonight, babygirl," he whispered directly into my ear, his lips grazing the shell. "Everything okay?"

I suppressed a whimper. "Y-yes, Daddy… The game is just… intense."

His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer until my back was completely molded to his chest. I could feel his heart beating faster now, matching the frantic pace of my own. One of his hands drifted higher, fingers slipping just under the hem of the jersey to rest on my hip, dangerously close to the edge of my panties.

The tension was unbearable. My pussy clenched involuntarily, squeezing out more slick nectar onto his hard cock. The wet heat between us felt obscene. I wanted to grind against him so badly—wanted to rock my hips and chase the friction that my body was screaming for—but I forced myself to stay mostly still, only allowing tiny, shameful movements that I prayed he wouldn't notice.

But Johan noticed. His hands squeezed my thighs a little harder, fingers digging in possessively. His breath grew heavier against my neck.

"Tell me if it gets too much," he said softly, but there was a new roughness in his tone. "Daddy just wants you comfortable."

I could only nod, too embarrassed and aroused to speak properly. We stayed like that through the rest of the first half—me sitting obediently on my stepfather's lap, his massive erection throbbing steadily against my dripping pussy, while he continued whispering game commentary into my ear. His hot breath teased my neck with every word. His hands never crossed a clear line, but they explored just enough to drive me crazy.

By halftime, my panties were completely ruined, and my mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. Shame burned through me, but it only made the ache between my legs stronger. I didn't want to move. I didn't want this feeling to end.