The Blossoming of Becca Pt. 01

This is one part of an 8-part story. It is a pseudo-incest tale about the burgeoning relationship between a man and his stepdaughter. Within this story I explore certain fetishes having to do with feet, anal, and various bodily fluids and odors. If any of that is not your cup of tea, this probably isn't the story for you. Consider this your warning.
If you like this story and want to follow my characters' adventures within their connected universe, I recommend bookmarking my page, as the next story may or may not be in the same category. Constructive feedback is appreciated.
All characters involved in sexual or explicit activity are 18 years of age or older.
This is the first part of The Blossoming of Becca, and as such, there is more story building than explicit material, but the story (and the sex) builds accordingly throughout the following chapters. Enjoy!
* * * * *
Thursday evening
"Hey, dad."
Becca came through the front door dragging her feet, as was normal after she got home from her part-time job at a local grocery store. She kicked off her sneakers, peeled off her sweaty socks, and dropped everything on the floor. Then she flopped down onto the couch like a ragdoll and leaned her head against me. I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a side hug.
"Hey, beautiful. How was work?"
She shrugged and melted into me a little more. I knew she didn't love the job, since she was on her feet all day and had to wear pants and a polo shirt in this hot summer weather, but I had encouraged her to stick it out for most of the summer. We had talked about it and agreed that she could quit a couple weeks before she had to go off to college.
I had always tried to teach her the value of money and the importance of working hard and saving for the future. And because of that, she rarely ever asked me for anything. She had had a summer job since she turned sixteen and insisted on earning her own spending money, as well as saving for college. And that made me extremely proud.
I squeezed her a little more tightly and kissed the top of her head, which still smelled like shampoo from this morning's shower. Her hand rested on my thigh and I closed my eyes, trying to get my warring thoughts under control.
* * * * *
Becca had turned eighteen in May and had graduated at the beginning of June. It was now almost July, and she would be heading off to college in about two months. She was going to Clearwater University, which was only about an hour from our house, but I was still dreading the day she left. It had been just the two of us for so many years.
I had met Becca's mom when I was 24. Julie Simpson was a year older, with a three-year-old daughter whose father had been in the military and met an early death overseas before she was born. We fell in love quickly and deeply, marrying within a year of meeting each other. A year and a half after our wedding, Julie was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. Six months later, Becca and I were on our own. I was completely devastated and utterly lost. I had just turned 27 and I was only making about 24K at a crappy telemarketing job, raising a 6-year-old all by myself. After some serious soul searching, I came to the conclusion that I needed to grow up and get my shit together.
I earned a certificate in project management and began farming my resume out as a consultant, which enabled me to work remotely from home. After learning how to manage my time wisely, I started working multiple contracts simultaneously. Long story short, I now make over 250K per year. The perks are obvious?financial stability and a constant presence at home for my stepdaughter in a beautiful house in Pass-a-Grille, which is on a beach peninsula in the greater St. Petersburg area of Florida. The drawback is that I tend to work long hours to pay for it.
Because of my work schedule, and maybe because I didn't want to divide my time between Becca and another person, I never got seriously involved with anyone else. I had been on dates here and there, but nothing stuck. I was the only thing Becca had in this world, and I was terrified to mess it up.
It's strange to think about now, but for some reason I never got around to officially adopting her. She has grown up as Rebecca Simpson, although she has always been Becca to me. My name is Tim Davis and legally, I am her guardian, but for all intents and purposes I've never been anything less than dad.
Needless to say, I cherish every moment I get to spend with Becca. She's been the apple of my eye and has grown up into a beautiful, thoughtful, self-sufficient young lady. So, you can imagine my surprise?and shame?when I began to see her in a different light.
* * * * *
A few weeks ago, Becca and her best friend Sydney were tanning in the back yard by the pool. I've always thought Sydney was a little cutie?5'5", dark hair, B-cups, petite and thin?and seeing them walk izmir escort around the house in bikinis was an almost daily event in the summer. I was always very careful about how I interacted with Becca's friends, because I never wanted to come off as a creeper. But I am a red-blooded 39-year-old male, and a hot, scantily clad girl is something that will always catch my eye.
Anyway, like I said, they were tanning back by the pool, lying on their stomachs on beach towels they had spread out on the tile deck. I was on a break from work, so I decided to join them for a bit. After changing into my swim trunks, I walked through the sliding glass door onto the stone-tiled patio and approached. It appeared that they had fallen asleep. They were wearing sunglasses, but it looked like their eyes were closed, and their breathing was slow and rhythmic. Not wanting to wake them, I stepped quietly into the pool and submerged myself, slicking my hair against my head. When I surfaced, I glanced in their direction. They hadn't moved at all. They were oriented so that their heads were pointing toward the house, while their feet were right there, so close to the edge of the pool that I could touch them if I wanted to. With my stomach in my throat and my heart beating fast, I felt a strong compulsion to move closer, and did so silently. When I reached the edge of the pool, I stopped and stared.
Now might be a good time to mention that I've always had a foot fetish. There is something about a girl's feet that turns me on like nothing else. Whether it is their cute little toes, or the pink coloration on their soles, or even the smell and taste, which evokes something forbidden and dirty, I love it all.
So, as I stared at the flawless bottoms of those 18-year-old feet, my cock began to swell. Initially, my gaze was drawn to Sydney. Her feet were smaller than Becca's with tiny little toes and smooth-looking pink soles. The edges of her heels and the pads of her toes showed only the smallest callouses from her footwear. Because they were lying face down, Sydney's toenails rested against the tiles and her heels pointed toward the sky, mere inches from my face. The skin on her arches was pale and wrinkled from having been in the water. I glanced up and noticed her legs were shiny and wet with tanning oil. Her shorter legs were slightly thinner than Becca's and my heart raced as I thought about rubbing oil into her inner thighs. Her yellow bikini bottoms disappeared into the crevice between those cute little cheeks and left a generous portion of her flawless teenaged ass exposed to the sun's warm rays. As I hung onto the edge of the pool, my gaze traveled back to her toes which were so close I could touch them with my tongue. I licked my lips as my thoughts spun out of control.
Inadvertently, my eyes moved to the left. My stepdaughter's feet were slightly larger than Sydney's, but no less alluring. Where Sydney had a few small patches of dry skin here and there, Becca's were utterly perfect. Her toenails were exquisitely manicured, and the pink skin of her heels and the pads below her toes were without blemish. As I studied them from only inches away, I realized I was holding my breath. Quietly, I exhaled and resumed normal breathing. My head spun and I thought I might pass out from the lack of oxygen. Or maybe it was the fear of getting caught. But the girls were just as motionless as they had been since I arrived, and I wasn't done looking.
Becca's legs were long and perfectly shaped. Taking notice of her ass for the very first time, I was blown away. When had she grown into such a beautiful, sexy young woman? Her black bikini bottoms were even more snugged into her butt than Sydney's, since Becca's thighs and ass were a little thicker. I could just make out the area of her asshole, where the roundness of her ass cheeks parted slightly before continuing toward her vulva.
At that moment, it was like something broke in my brain. A wall that had been there for years and years had crumbled under the weight of my lust. I was suddenly overcome with the desire to touch and taste every part of her body?her feet, her legs, her ass, her pus...
What the fuck was I doing? She was my daughter! I had raised her since she was a little girl!
Immediately my mind began to fight back against my objections, and I started justifying my lecherous thoughts. She was my stepdaughter, and not in any way related to me by blood. She was eighteen years old and legally a woman. And this was the first time I had even noticed how hot she was, so it wasn't as if I was some vile predator.
Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and shook my head, disgusted with myself and the erection that was straining against my trunks. Pushing away from the edge of the pool, I blew out all my breath and sank to the bottom, sitting there until my body screamed for oxygen. I pushed off and thrashed my way to the surface, noisily gasping for air as I swam izmir escort bayan to the stairs. Becca and Sydney started simultaneously, glancing over their shoulders at the commotion in the water.
"Hey, dad," Becca said. "We didn't hear you come out."
Thankfully, my cock had deflated, so I walked up the stairs and grabbed a clean towel from a stack we kept inside an outdoor cupboard. "Just jumped in for a quick refresher," I said, not looking at the girls as I walked back into the house. I immediately headed upstairs and jacked off in the shower, trying to restrict my thoughts only to Sydney's tight little body. But images of Becca kept intruding, and when I came, I was picturing my daughter's incredible ass. Feeling miserable, I went back to my office and buried myself in work.
* * * * *
Over the next couple weeks, I began to realize just how lonely I was, and how long I had felt that way. I had always had Becca to keep me company, but romantic female companionship was something I had relegated to the back burner. But something had been awakened inside me, and I was beginning to see things through a different filter.
It had been commonplace for Becca to walk around the house in nothing but panties and a t-shirt every morning and night since she was a little girl. I had never seen it as an issue, and neither had she. But after the incident in the pool, my eyes had been opened. Suddenly, I was noticing that this beautiful young woman never wore a bra under those t-shirts?some of which were quite thin?and her nipples made definite impressions?in the material and on me. And the underwear she wore were no longer the 'granny-panty' type that I had bought her when she was younger. She did her own shopping now, and her choices in intimate wear tended toward less coverage than I had realized?bikini briefs, t-backs, thongs... I mean, how in the world had I not realized she was wearing thongs in front of me?
And when we would watch TV in the evenings, it was more of the same thing. She would sit cross-legged on the couch with her panty-covered camel toe peeking out from beneath the hem of her t-shirt like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for her it was. It was shocking only for me. I was the one with the issue, not her.
How had I been so blinded to her blossoming femininity? And how could I now live like this, consumed by constant thoughts of my stepdaughter's nubile body? Maybe the better question was...what should I do about it?
* * * * *
"Work that bad, huh?" I asked as I gave her another squeeze.
"It's OK," she replied. "It's just tiring. And my feet hurt."
And there it was?the perfect opportunity. I cursed myself inside, because I knew that I wasn't going to let that opportunity slip by. I was going to take full advantage of it.
"Let me rub your feet for you," I said.
"Ew, no! That's gross, dad! You don't want to touch my feet!"
I'm not sure why, but I had never really done that for her before. We were always close, but Becca never asked me for back rubs or foot massages or anything of the like, and I never offered. I guess some dads did those things, but I've always sort of associated them with sexual intimacy and for obvious reasons, sexual intimacy had never been a part of our relationship. But the same justifications that had been rolling around in my brain for the last couple weeks popped up again?Becca was now eighteen, and sexual intimacy between us wouldn't be incestuous because we didn't share blood.
"Nonsense. Feet aren't gross. Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Feet smell bad!" she replied with a grimace. "Everyone knows that. And mine have been closed up in my work sneakers for most of the afternoon and evening."
"You are a clean girl, Becca," I replied. "Your body has natural odors, but I've never noticed any bad smells coming from you. It's totally fine. I'm not grossed out by you in any way."
Becca sat up straight and studied me, trying to judge if I was serious. "I still think it's gross."
Smiling, I said, "Why don't you go upstairs and get into your night clothes, then come back down and I will give you a foot rub. It will be fine, I promise." I leaned over and kissed her on the head again.
"I should get a shower, though," she said.
"Not yet. Just get changed. Then, before you go to bed, if you want to get a shower, you can."
Becca gave me a skeptical look. "OK..." she replied, drawing out the word as if she were unsure about the idea or my reasoning behind it. But she was a good girl and almost always did what I asked right away. She stood up and trudged up the stairs. About five minutes later, she came back down in her usual nighttime uniform?panties and a thin t-shirt. The panties were dark blue and must have been the pair she had been wearing all day because I thought I got the faintest whiff of vaginal musk as she sat down next to me again. I didn't say or escort izmir do anything right away and Becca fidgeted as we stared at the television. I could tell she wasn't going to be the one to bring up the subject of the foot rub.
"Why don't you lie down and put your feet in my lap?" I suggested with a smile.
Becca shifted uncomfortably. "Are you sure about this, dad? You don't have to do this. I will totally survive without a foot massage."
"I know you will, silly," I replied. "But wouldn't if feel nice to get one?"
"I guess," she said as she shrugged, giving me an insecure smile. But she did as I asked. She pushed a couple throw pillows into the center joint of the L-shaped sectional sofa and lay down, carefully placing her feet in my lap. From this vantage I could see a puffy camel toe in her dark panties and visible pokies in her shirt. My dick twitched in my shorts.
As I looked down at her feet, I was taken aback by just how sexy they were. Her toes were small with perfect, painted nails. The bottoms of her toes, the pads underneath, and her heels were a rosy shade of pink. Her arches were white, and they wrinkled adorably as she self-consciously scrunched up her toes. The aroma that wafted up into my nose acted like pheromones, sending a signal to my crotch. Even though her feet had been enclosed in her shoes and socks for most of the day, the smell wasn't off-putting or overpowering. On the contrary, it was enticingly aromatic...and it made my head swim.
I took one of her feet in my hands as she watched nervously. As I rubbed it, I noticed that it was baby-smooth and softer than I had imagined, if a little sweaty. Immediately, my cock began to swell. I quickly grabbed a throw pillow from between my hip and the arm of the couch and set it on my lap, then rested her heel on it, hoping she would misconstrue the reason I had placed it there.
"Do my feet smell bad?" she asked, cringing.
Impulsively, I lifted her foot and stuck my nose right between her sweaty toes, inhaling deeply. "Nope," I replied, giving her a Cheshire cat grin.
"Dad!" she shouted, yanking her foot out of my hands, and retreated to the other end of the couch. "That's so disgusting!" She lifted a foot to her own nose and took a big whiff. "Ugh! They do smell! I don't want you touching them right now! I should have gotten a shower!"
"Sweetheart," I said reassuringly, "there is nothing about your feet that I find disgusting. They have a slight odor from being in your shoes and socks. But they aren't dirty or nasty. Put them back on the pillow."
Becca didn't move a muscle, remaining tightly curled up at the opposite end of the couch, her face red from embarrassment.
"Please?" She still didn't move. "Trust me," I implored. "Your feet are beautiful, just like the rest of you. I am not grossed out by your feet." I patted the pillow in my lap.
Begrudgingly, she lay down, stretched out, and placed her feet back in my lap. As she adjusted herself, I noticed the edge of her panties had ridden up, and the puffy edge of one lower lip was slightly exposed. Outwardly, I showed no sign that I had noticed, but inwardly I groaned as my desire was inflamed. It took every ounce of my willpower not to sit there and stare at her pussy. I pried my attention away from her inner thighs and grasped the foot closest to me. I began to rub and knead her heel and arch, working my way up to the pads under her toes. Becca's eyes closed and she let out a sound of blissful relaxation. As I massaged her sexy little foot, I began to contemplate why she might feel self-conscious about them?or any other part of her body.
"Have I ever made you feel like your body was dirty or shameful?" I asked.
Becca gave me a strange look. "No. Why?"
"I just wondered. My parents were that way and it always bothered me. They didn't consider it proper to show certain parts of the body around the house. I guess I thought that because you are self-conscious about your feet, maybe I did or said something in the past that gave you the impression that they were gross."
"I don't think so," she replied. Her eyes moved around the room as she thought about it. "I think I just came to that conclusion on my own. My feet don't normally smell very good after I've had my work shoes on for hours. I just didn't want you to think I was a scumbag."
"Oh, babe! I have never thought that, nor would I ever! I know you are a very clean person. I wouldn't be afraid to smell any part of you."
Becca's eyes grew wide at my choice of words.
"You know what I mean," I said quickly, trying to recover from my Freudian slip. "I just don't want you ever to be self-conscious about your body around me."
"OK," she said, probably wondering where I was headed with this conversation.
I grabbed her other foot and began massaging it, pushing my thumbs into her arch. Her eyes closed once again, and she smiled as she sighed.
"I didn't know you were so good at this, dad," she said. "Why have you never done this before?"
"I guess I never thought about it," I replied honestly. "But when you said your feet hurt, I figured it might be a nice thing to do for you."
"Mmm, thank you," she cooed.