Some people might label my step-daughter as being 'Goth,' but she isn't, and it makes me laugh that people think so. She is, however, obsessed with all things Halloween. Her bedroom is decorated to look like a pumpkin patch, and she spends the entire rest of the year planning her costumes for the month of October. On any given day of that month, she might be dressed as a witch, a cat, a ghost, a scary robot, or any other thing that tickles her Halloween fancy.
My wife and I had been dating for several months before she warned me about her daughter's obsession, and she warned me to avoid being dragged into her daughter's insanity. I didn't heed that warning.
Allow me, for a moment, to talk about my wife. This was the second marriage for both of us, and it is a bit sad to say, but she married me for money. Oh, not my money-- she married me to fulfill a clause in her father's will. We are mostly compatible in many ways, and I am very happy to be a part of her life, but when she proposed to me, she made it clear that ensuring her inheritance was the prime reason.
Honestly, I don't have anything to complain about. Well, mostly I don't. I mean, we both enjoy doing things together, and while we both still have full-time jobs, she can afford to take us on some great vacations. We make each other smile, and we've never found anything to disagree on.
There is one little thing. Sex. She enjoys it, and we even have it often enough to mostly satisfy my desires, but she has some very strict rules. First, she will not allow flirting or any other public displays of affection. Second, she will only allow it on weekends, preferably Friday or Saturday nights. Third, she will not allow anything that she deems kinky. She insists on missionary position, minimal kissing, and no dirty talking.
Finally, while she doesn't insist on it, she greatly prefers if I hold back and have just a single orgasm while she is having hers. I discovered early in the relationship that if I allowed myself to cum before she did, she would end things there, without a finish for her. She deemed 'sloppy seconds' as too kinky, and therefore not allowed. There has been a time or two that I exerted too much control and gave her an orgasm without having one myself. Each time, I had to wait until she was sound asleep before I could sneak off someplace private to let myself finish.
Now, I am not a sex-crazed maniac, but if the opportunity ever came up to do something silly, or exciting, and simply different than what she allowed, I was going to struggle to keep from taking advantage of the situation.
Now, you may ask of me, 'What does this have to do with your step-daughter's obsession?' The answer is, 'I didn't heed that warning'.
It started when my step-daughter decided to dress up as Oogie-boogie from "The Nightmare Before Christmas". If you've never seen the Voiceplay cover of "The Oogie Boogie Song", go check that out. I'll wait.
The bass singer of the group plays the role of Oogie Boogie, and his vocal range goes from rich and low to soaring high to how-in-the-hell-did-he-sing-that low. To say it is impressive is an understatement.
So as my step-daughter neared completion of her costume, I asked if she was going to sing the song, and if she was going to be able to sing notes as low as the original, or better yet, the cover version. She sadly admitted that she was going to sing it, but at least one octave higher. I laughed, and then offered her an alternative.
It only took me a day to create a nifty little electronic gadget, and then it took her and me a couple of days to build a microphone and speakers into her costume. The gadget allowed her to use a couple of buttons to drop her voice up to three octaves, and also to add special effects like echo and reverb. It turned out to be awesome.
As far as my step-daughter was concerned, I was now a part of her design team, and she couldn't wait to take advantage of me.
The next step to my impending doom was so wholesome and innocent that I never would have guessed that trouble was coming.
My wife has a young sister, who is happily married, and has two younger children. One of the kids had a birthday in mid-September, and we were invited. When it comes to kids, I love being a goofball and a clown, and it didn't take long before 'Uncle John' became a swing pusher, a slide catcher, and an all-around jungle gym. At one point I was stomping around the yard with a kid wrapped around each leg, a kid on my back, and a kid on my shoulders. It would be hard to decide whether more fun was being had by the kids or by me.
When we were all exhausted, my step-daughter approached me with a big smile on her face.
"Hey John," she asked, "are you strong enough to carry me like that? I mean, if I did a Tall Man costume, could you carry me around on your shoulders for a long while? If I did a Two-Headed Hunchback, could you carry me around on your back?"
For the record, her mother had asked her many times to call me either 'Dad' or 'Father.' When her mother was nearby, she did as her mother had asked. She and I had a casual agreement that I didn't mind if she just used my name, and that was what she was most comfortable doing.
I laughed, gave her an affirmative shrug, and replied, "Ask me after I've had some birthday cake to restore my strength!"
She laughed, and I imagined that was the end of that. Of course, I was wrong.
A couple days later, she asked me to join her to look at something she and her college roommate had built the year before. Even before her mother and I had married, she had taken over the large workshop/shed that the previous property owner had built to do furniture restoration. She had added a bunch of sewing and crafting stuff to the woodworking tools that were already there. She had even taken the time to learn how to properly use it all.
The thing she wanted me to see was quite the contraption. It was a frame with eight legs that was designed to look like a giant spider. She demonstrated how she would strap herself in to operate four of the legs, and then she explained how her friend was supposed to climb on her back to operate the other legs. Those legs could also be locked together and operated in pairs, freeing the hands of the top person to operate the jaws and fangs. They hadn't finished the outer shell yet, but it was still quite impressive.
"The problem," she explained, "is that I wasn't strong enough to crawl around with her on my back. It will only take me a day or so to modify the frame to fit you, so do you think you are strong enough to carry me?"
"Probably?" I answered doubtfully. "It looks like a lot of weight ends up on the lower person's arms. Here, let's give this a try..."
I had spotted some stilts that were part of a different costume, and I grabbed them. They were designed with a footrest to stand on and straps to attach them to the legs. I adjusted the straps to be snug around my forearms, and then held the footrests in my hands. I had her climb on my back, and then I leaned forward to walk around 'four-legged', with the stilts as my front legs. It worked out well, and I was able to move around fairly well.
I should have noticed the first warning sign, but I missed it completely.
When she first jumped on my back, her body was tense, as if she were almost afraid to be touching me. As I walked around, her body relaxed, and she nearly melted as she molded herself to my back. I was completely oblivious and didn't notice that when I stopped to let her hop off, she hugged me even tighter, and she snuggled into my shoulder like she might kiss it. She didn't, and I didn't notice a thing. I also didn't notice how shiny her eyes were as she took several measurements of my body parts.
Two days later, she invited me out to the workshop again. She had modified the frame to fit my larger body, and she quickly strapped me in to test the fit. I was only operating four of the legs, so she secured the other ones up out of the way, and we tested to see if I could operate the frame to walk around. It took a bit of practice, but it worked really well.
She was very eager to climb aboard to test out how well things worked with the second person in place. All in all, it worked okay. We had a harder time getting our motions coordinated, and the motions looked rather mechanical. The biggest problem was that the angles needed to lock the upper person's spider legs in pairs just didn't work. Without the locked function, that person couldn't operate the jaws and fangs.
I would say that I was too absorbed in worrying about her frustration to notice the two things that were clear warning signs.
With her voice sounding on the edge of tears, she moaned, "Daddy, I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to set the locks. I wish I had muscles like you do!" At the same time, her hands slid in under my shirt to caress my abdomen and chest. As if it wasn't enough that I missed the sudden name change and the overly familiar contact, I missed the importance of how she hugged me and pressed her nose against my neck again.
I did notice the speculative look as we unstrapped from the machine, but I figured she was simply working on engineering a better way for her to run the upper levers.
I would like to add one more little side note here. That evening, when I had arrived home from work, I had planned on doing some yard work. With that plan in mind, I had changed out of my business-casual clothes and into jeans and a t-shirt. Crawling around with her contraption strapped on and her weight added was quite the workout. By the time we finished, I wasn't dripping in sweat, but I made a mental note to wear lighter clothes the next time we tried out the machine. Actually, I said that out loud, and my step-daughter laughed at me and agreed that I should.
Two days later, on a Thursday evening, she was ready to try again. She was rather impatient to try, but she also seemed very pleased that I took time to change into a sleeveless workout shirt and gym shorts. I noted that she had made pretty much the same choice for her outfit.
At first glance, I didn't think the changes she had made would work. She had drastically changed the operating angles of all of the upper levers, and I couldn't imagine how she thought that she had improved things. She laughed at my observation, and then directed me to strap in.
With my legs strapped in, I leaned forward to attach my arms, but she stopped me. She didn't like the way my shirt was hanging down when I leaned forward, and she insisted it was going to be in the way. She insisted that I take it off, and I didn't think twice as I complied. She quickly strapped in my arms.
I was puzzled by her next actions. Instead of climbing on top and strapping in, she started adding straps that hung down in various places that didn't make sense. They didn't make sense until she gave me new directions. First, she had me lift as high as I possibly could. Then, she slid in underneath me and ordered me to lower myself onto her body.
The overall effect of that positioning was very inappropriate, but I was too focused on figuring out how she intended to make things work to notice. I also should have paid a lot more attention to the way her body flexed and squirmed against mine as she started tightening straps. When I realized how wide her legs were spread to reach around my body, it was too late to stop her.
"Up, Daddy, get it up," she commanded in a teasing voice. She saw the shocked look on my face, and she laughed, "The frame, Daddy, get the frame up. You're crushing me here!"
I realized she was probably exaggerating, but I flexed and pushed and we lifted up off the ground. Her body flexed and pressed against me, and she proclaimed, "Oh, Daddy, this is much better. Walk us out into the yard so we have some room to move."
Her idea of 'much better' and mine were two very different things. To walk, we had to coordinate our motions, which involved a lot of rocking our hips together. The motions of the spider legs probably looked very realistic, but the effect our efforts were having on my body was waking up things better left untouched.
"We... this isn't right," I insisted. "We need to stop."
The look she gave me should have sent terror straight to my core, but it only made the rate of swelling increase.
"This is perfect, Daddy," she insisted. "Look, I can easily lock the levers now." She demonstrated, and it took almost no effort at all for her to lock them in. Then, she sealed my fate. With her hands free, they tugged at her shirt, which was trapped between us, and she said, "I feel you getting hard, Daddy. Look, this is making my nipples hard too!"
Her shirt lifted high enough to expose her perky, small nipples, which she immediately pressed against my bare chest. The heat from her nipples and her breasts blasted away any self-control that I might have tried to find. I longed to get my lips and tongue on her breasts, but the straps had us locked in. Sensing my desire, she pressed her lips and tongue to mine for me to devour.
"Make it walk, Daddy!" she gasped between kisses, and I couldn't stop from obeying. I had no idea where we were headed, because I was focused on kissing her, and not on our direction.
The monster machine may have kept going straight, but our directions took another drastic turn. As I pushed and pulled with my entire body, as she rolled her hips to walk the other sets of legs, her hand shot down between us. Somehow, she managed to push the front of my shorts and boxers down while pulling her loose shorts aside, and then I learned that the heat of her breasts and the heat of her lips were nothing compared to the heat inside her body.
I opened my mouth to protest, but I couldn't make a sound. She gleefully laughed and called out, "Fuck, Daddy, tell me spider machine sex isn't exactly what we needed! Walk it, Daddy, walk it!"
Ten steps later, her eyes flared wide, and she called out, "Fuck, Daddy, I'm cumming! Please, Daddy, please, I can feel you're getting close, but please don't cum inside me! Fuck, Daddy, I'm cumming now!"
The realization of the seriousness of the situation should have scared the stiffness out of me, but it actually made it even harder for me to hold back. At the same time, her body went rigid and her insides boiled with gushing heat that poured from her trembling insides. She kissed me so hard that I nearly passed out. Somehow, I managed to hold back from cumming.
Suddenly, she pulled back from our kisses, and she growled, "Down, Daddy. I need to finish you."
I had no idea where she intended to take us next, but I quickly obeyed and eased our bodies down onto the ground. Her hands raced to the straps that held us together at hip and shoulder. In moments, her body fell free and her eyes commanded me to lift up again.
"Next time, Daddy, I want your heat inside me," she declared as she spun around and dove for my crotch. "Ever since the one time I accidentally saw you jacking off when mother turned you away, I've wanted this. Don't hold back, Daddy!"
Her mouth engulfed me, and I was nearly lost.
Her glistening lower lip caught my attention, and I decided that I would not be denied. I was still strapped into the machine, but I was able to use one of the arms to pull her body around under mine, and then I lowered myself down to kiss and devour her.
Even as her body started to respond, she pulled back enough to laugh and cry out, "Oh, whatever shall I do? The Giant Spider has me trapped. Do it, Spider! Sink your fangs in and suck me dry!"
Acting as if she were the spider, she took my single hard fang deep into her mouth, and she did her best to suck me dry. I ravaged her lower lips with lips and tongue, and we both cried out as we filled each others mouths with copious amounts of lust.
Far too soon, she started slapping at my side and grunting with a mouth full of cock and cum. I realized that she was trapped beneath the weight of both me and the machine. It took every bit of strength that I could muster to lift up so she could scramble free.
I was worried that I had done something wrong, because tears were streaming from her eyes. Her hands raced to undo the straps that held me in, and I realized that...
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