Emma had always prided herself on being a woman of principle. A feminist. A free thinker. The kind of person who challenged outdated norms and patriarchal structures wherever she found them. At twenty-one, she was the girl in her sociology classes who corrected her professors when they used gendered language, the one who led protests on campus, the one who knew what was right and what was wrong.
That was why she had chosen Caleb.
Caleb was the ideal modern man—soft-spoken, kind, and endlessly agreeable. He listened when she spoke, nodded earnestly at her impassioned speeches, and never once questioned her perspective. If she ranted about systemic oppression, he agreed. If she changed her mind about something, he adapted immediately. If she needed space, he stepped back.
He was perfect.
And yet… she was bored.
She hated admitting it to herself, but it gnawed at her in ways she couldn’t ignore. He never pushed back, never made her work for anything. Their conversations felt like echo chambers, his touch was gentle to the point of feeling careful, and sex with him—though perfectly respectful—left her feeling hollow, like something essential was missing.
She told herself it was just a phase, that passion ebbed and flowed in relationships. But that excuse became harder to believe when she met his father.
Richard was everything she despised. Loud, crass, beer-bellied, and utterly unfiltered. He made rude jokes, cut people off mid-sentence, and spoke as if the world had been built for his convenience. He was sexist in that old-school way—casual, lazy misogyny that came as naturally to him as breathing. He barely acknowledged Caleb’s mother, dismissed Emma’s political views with a wave of his hand, and, worst of all, he didn’t give a damn about being likable.
Emma should have hated him.
And yet, sitting across from him at the dinner table that first night, she felt something unexpected curl in her stomach.
“So, Emma,” Richard said, tearing into a steak with his hands like a caveman. “Caleb tells me you’re all into that feminist stuff.”
She tensed. “Yes, I am into that feminist stuff,” she said coolly. “It’s not just a hobby.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Christ, you sound like a TED Talk.”
Caleb nudged her knee under the table, a silent plea to let it go, but something inside her bristled. Not with anger—but with something far worse.
Interest.
“You don’t believe in equality?” she challenged.
Richard chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I believe in reality. And reality is, men and women ain’t the same. No use pretending.” He pointed at Caleb with his fork. “Your boyfriend here? Nicest boy I ever raised. But he’s soft. Ain’t got a spine. And I can see it’s driving you nuts.”
Emma’s breath caught.
“What the hell, Dad?” Caleb muttered, his face burning red.
Richard ignored him, smirking at her instead. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Emma opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
That night, as she lay in Caleb’s childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, she tried to rationalize it. It wasn’t him she wanted—God, no. Richard was crude and awful and everything she stood against. But there was something about the way he took up space, the way he said what he wanted without seeking approval, the way he simply existed without apology… that made her stomach twist.
She tried to push it away, but the thought festered.
Over the next few days, she watched Richard more closely. The way he spoke over people, the way he never backed down from a fight, the way he moved through the house like a man who expected the world to bend to him. It infuriated her.
It also made her pulse quicken.
One evening, after Caleb had gone to bed early—exhausted from a long day of listening and agreeing—Emma found herself alone in the kitchen with Richard. He stood at the counter, cracking open another beer, his gaze sliding lazily toward her.
“You know,” he said, “I think you like arguing with me.”
Emma scoffed, crossing her arms. “I think you’re delusional.”
“Nah.” He took a slow sip, watching her over the rim. “You’re just used to men folding the second you open your mouth. You’re not used to someone tellin’ you no.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t need men to tell me anything.”
“That so?” He smirked. “Then why are you still standing here?”
Emma didn’t have an answer.
The moment stretched, thick with something unspoken. Richard’s eyes dragged over her, slow and assessing, like he was sizing her up. She felt her skin prickle under his gaze, heat pooling low in her stomach.
She turned sharply, muttering, “Goodnight,” before she did something stupid.
That night, she lay awake, her body thrumming with frustration. Not just at him—but at herself. At the ugly, undeniable truth clawing its way to the surface.
She didn’t want Caleb.
She wanted someone like his father.
It disgusted her.
It thrilled her.
Caleb rubbed his eyes sleepily, confused. “You’re leaving early?”
She nodded, suddenly feeling suffocated. “Yeah. I just… I need to think.”
He frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”
Emma hesitated. Then, softly, “No. You were perfect.”
And that was the problem.
She left before she could change her mind.
The next day, first thing in the morning, knowing her boyfriend Caleb was going to be gone at class, Emma drove over to Richard’s house with determination. She walked up to the door and knocked, her knuckles rapping against the worn wood. Richard answered the door, his eyes squinting against the sunlight. He was unshaven, his shirt stained with beer and food. He looked her up and down, confusion etched on his face.
“You forget something here last night or something?” he grunted.
Emma took a deep breath, her resolve unwavering. “Yeah, I forgot to ask if you think you could last more than 10 seconds fucking me?”
Richard’s eyes widened in shock. He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the house. “Whoa… I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re smoking but you might want to go sleep it off.”
Emma didn’t wait for an invitation. She pushed past him into the house, her eyes scanning the room. She turned to face him, her body language aggressive and confident. “You don’t have the balls to fuck me, you’re all talk aren’t you?”
Richard’s expression changed, his eyes narrowing as he looked her over. “Is this one of those fucking traps your feminists pull so you can go cry on camera about how you got abused and are so oppressed?”
Emma didn’t hesitate. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her firm, youthful breasts. She shimmied out of her pants, her neatly trimmed pubic hair on full display.
“Good god, what the fuck are you doing? Put your fucking clothes back on,” Richard said, a disgusted look on his face.
Emma smirked, holding up her phone. “This is me, giving consent to this man to have his way with me, if he has the balls. I’m going to set this down and keep it recording so it can be seen whether he pleasures me or not, but it’s all consensual.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “What are you just gonna delete that as soon as we’re done?”
“It’s live streaming on the site I cam on, and all my cam shows get saved on like three different sites instantly. So no risk for you at all.”
Richard shook his head, his expression serious. “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, you may think I’m some dumb old redneck but I do have values, and that means I give a shit about not betraying my son, so I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole you fucking filthy whore.”
Emma’s confidence wavered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She turned to grab her phone, and she shut if off, killing the live feed. And then, Richard’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He pulled her close, his eyes burning with intensity.
“But now that it’s just you and me” he growled. “I’m not one to turn down a challenge.”
He pushed her against the wall, his hands rough and demanding as they explored her body. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples until they hardened. Emma let out a soft moan, her body responding to his touch.
“You like that, don’t you you little fucking whore?” Richard murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “You like being manhandled, don’t you, you little slut?”
Emma nodded, her body trembling with desire. Richard spun her around, his hands gripping her hips as he bent her over. He traced his fingers along the crack of her ass, teasing her before dipping lower to stroke her pussy.
“You’re soaking wet,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You’re a dirty little bitch, aren’t you?”
Emma whimpered, her body aching for more. Richard obliged, sinking two fingers into her pussy. He pumped them in and out, his thumb circling her clit. Emma could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing as she got closer and closer to the edge.
But Richard wasn’t done with her yet. He pulled his fingers out, using them to tease her ass. Emma gasped, her body tensing at the invasion. Richard chuckled, his voice harsh and raw. “You like that, don’t you? You like being filled in both your holes?”
He added a third finger, stretching her as he continued to fuck her ass with his fingers. Emma could feel her orgasm building again, her body on fire with need. Richard leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you, you dirty little slut?” he murmured. “You’re gonna scream my name as I make you come all over my fingers.”
Emma let out a cry, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her. Richard held her as she rode out the waves of pleasure, his fingers still buried deep inside her.
When she finally came down, Richard pulled his fingers out. He turned her around, his eyes hungry and intense. “On your knees,” he commanded.
Emma dropped to her knees, her eyes locked onto his cock. It was thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. She licked her lips, her body aching for a taste.
“Suck it right now you fucking bitch,” Richard growled.
Emma opened her mouth, taking him in as far as she could. She sucked him hard, her head bobbing up and down as she took him deeper and deeper. Richard groaned, his hands fisting her hair as he guided her movements.
“You’re a natural at this, aren’t you?” he said, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re a dirty little slut who loves to suck an old dirty bastard’s cock.”
Emma moaned, the vibrations sending shivers through Richard’s body. He could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing as he got closer and closer to the edge. But he wasn’t ready to come yet. He pulled out of her mouth, his cock glistening with her saliva.
“Bend over the couch,” he commanded.
Emma did as she was told, her body trembling with anticipation. Richard grabbed a condom from his pocket, rolling it on before positioning himself behind her. He rubbed the head of his cock against her pussy, teasing her before plunging in.
Emma cried out, her body stretching to accommodate him. Richard groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move. He set a steady pace, his cock pounding into her as he fucked her hard and deep.
“You like that, don’t you?” he growled. “You like being fucked by a real man and treated like the little piece of meat you are, don’t you?”
Emma nodded, “yes daddy!!” she screamed, her body on fire with pleasure. Richard reached around, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Emma could feel her orgasm building again, her body tensing as she got closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s right you’re damn right I’m your daddy, make daddy’s dick cum you whore” Richard commanded as she orgasmed like crazy over his cock throttling her so hard and his crude demeaning language.
Emma let out a scream, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her. Richard groaned, his body tensing as he felt his climax coming, he grabbed her by the hair and turned her around roughly, positioning his cock directly against her mouth.
He unloaded a big sticky mess of cum all over her face, and pushed it between her lips and into her mouth with the tip of his cock.
And then he slapped her across the head and said “My son can do better. Now get outta my fuckin’ house and stay away from Caleb you bitch.”
He walked off and disappeared down a hallway. Emma sat there, unsure how she felt about her face being covered and sticky. She felt used, abused, and regret was starting to sink in. She’d never had that done to her before, how demeaning having a man unload his semen all over her face. Maybe she was wrong, maybe this wasn’t what she had in mind. She found some paper towels and wiped off her face, got dressed, and left.
She texted Caleb to end things, but before she could, he beat her to it. He had already discovered her webcam show and had seen the live feed of his dad rejecting her. The moment she reached out, he had already made up his mind and broken up with her first. He seemed pretty pissed. So were her webcam followers for being teased. Her inbox was flooded with demands to do an old guy, they felt ripped off for tipping her during that feed and then just having it cut.
So she had to screw some other old guy on cam. She found a homeless guy down by an encampment, and just got it done quick and dirty in a hotel room.