Selena Gomez Erotic Stories

🛑 ALL INFORMATION CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻

Selena Gomez Erotic Stories
Forum rules
Please keep multiple parts of a story in the same thread.

Switch to Print View -
13 posts
1 2 Next
The Final Countdown feat. Selena Gomez
Part 1 of 4
by Jude


Codes: Mf,Ped,Spank,Inc


This Fictional story contains graphic sexual situations, if you are under age or easily offended then Please Stop Reading


July 22 2010 – 06:19 AM

“I love my wife... I do. I love my wife... But...”

I'm standing here in the upstairs hallway of my opulent Los Angeles home, paid for by the Production company my wife and I run together, mostly out of the downstairs office.

At the end of the hall to my right are the double doors to the master Bedroom I also share with my loving and beautiful wife Mandy.

Dead ahead of me, barely three inches from my face is the door to the only other occupied bedroom in the sizeable house. It's my daughter’s room; Selena Marie Gomez- young, already wildly successful teen actress and budding pop-star to boot.

She's awake, I can tell because I’ve been standing outside the door to her room for the last half hour- debating with myself whether to go in or not- and had heard her alarm clock go off at Six AM.

Unusually early for her to be getting up on a Thursday when she didn’t have to work; a television show she was currently filming the final season of.

The last twenty minutes had been full of the subtle sounds of her shifting around under the comforter of her queen sized bed - the oversized bed is a luxury typical of the spoils I had been unable to resist giving her- and eventually the bed-clothes rustling was joined by the sounds of her flipping magazine pages.

She's waiting in there, for the same reason I'm waiting out here.

Standing here, on the threshold of such a giant leap forward that I'm suddenly not sure I want to take, I can’t help but look back to where it all began

May 18 2006 05:40 PM

“Son of a bitch” I mutter, knuckles scraping against the stubborn stubble just underneath my chin as I pull a finger through my hackneyed third attempt at tying my bow-tie.

I was nervous, trapped in a stuffy little closet of a room off the main corridor of the church I was soon to be married in. I had been panicked when I was woke this morning, not even hung-over because I was still a little drunk, to the sound of my cell-phone ringing in the other room. It was Mandy, my gorgeous wife-to-be, leaving a quick message and hanging up before I found my phone to answer, telling me she couldn’t wait to see me again at the chapel in a few hours and that, as much as she could understand my showing up to our wedding in my Saturday worst, it wouldn’t look great in the pictures.

Coming to my senses, I remembered that today was the big day; I stormed around the house like a cleaning tornado. Pizza boxes were tossed outside, my two buddies kicked out of the den in the basement and my wayward suit bag quickly located.

Mandy and I had both organized our respective Bachelorette and Bachelor parties for the same night, we also both forgot to book a sitter for Selena, her at-the-time thirteen-year-old daughter- still an actress but not nearly famous yet. We couldn’t find one last minute so, tomorrow being Mandy’s big day I put my hand up to stay home and baby-sit the huffy- I’m not a baby- baby.

Then the aforementioned friends came around with a half dozen pizzas, a case of Corona and a couple of the dirty debutantes DVDs they knew I liked, so we had a party at home.

I was doing fine for time, having planned for a full hour at the chapel to get ready before the wedding and being a guy... I only needed fifteen minutes to get pants, shirt, shoes and jacket organized. The suit came with a black cummerbund but I wasn’t going to wear it, it was warm in the chapel and I always associated those things with boring-ass church trips with my father.

That just left this damn bowtie, I could tie a necktie in my sleep but these stupid... fidgety things.

“Fuck” I cursed under my breath, then immediately felt bad, swearing in the lord’s house and all. As I let my hands drop to my sides there was a knock at the door.

“Hello?” I said, not turning from my mirror affixed to the wall of the ornate but old dresser in my changing closet.

“Brian?” a familiar, high pitched but raspy voice came questioningly through the door.

I smile, turning and staring at the solid pine door separating me from my wife-to-be.

The sound of her voice immediately got me thinking about last night, a text from Mandy at a little after Ten PM told me to come upstairs.

I exited the basement, knowing immediately that my fiancé was in the house- and that she was a little bit tipsy, the trash bin that usually stood against the corner wall between the basement door and the archway into the hall had been knocked over, most likely from Mandy trying to slip stealthily in through the back door from the garage.

I'd made my way upstairs, knowing that my buddies wouldn’t notice my absence- and found my wife, struck giggling-drunk in our pre-marital bed. She’d gotten inspired while out at her bachelorette party and came home for a quickie.

The fresh memory awoke my little man, going from Sunday casual to straining for freedom in the blink of an eye.

Thinking that maybe my rambunctious wife was after another, quick and hard up against the church wall I took the two steps to the door and grabbed the knob.

“I thought it’s bad luck for me to see you in the dress before the wedding?” I asked through the door. “Or maybe you’re thinking I tear that dress right off you before I get the chance to see–” I continued as I yanked the door open- my smile faltered, then I had to drop my gaze about one and a half feet to look into the eyes of Selena. She looked adorable in a pale purple bridesmaid dress, sheer and flowing around the hem with a darker purple sash stitched just below her barely existent bust line.

Inside my pants, my dick lurched again and I cursed myself for confusing their similar voices. Selena’s was higher than Mandy’s – I should have been able to hear the difference. I bit down on my tongue too, using the pain to distract my brain and keep it from crossing signals. Mandy, Mandy is the one I get hard for. Selena is the one I go to jail for getting hard for... not that I’ve ever thought about it. She’s cute, cute in an ice-cream and lollipops kind of way– not cute in a ‘I want to wrap those skinny, olive legs around my head and... anyway.

Selena smiled up at me, the same slightly distrusting smile I’d been getting from her for the last year, since I started dating her mother.

“What?” she asked, “You want to tear my dress off?” Her hands unclasped from behind her back and came up to the chest of her long flowing garment, gripping and tugging lightly on the almost flat bust-line as though testing its strength.

“No, No, No!” I asserted quickly, shaking my head vigorously and waving my hand in her face, trying to distract her into letting go of her dress.

She did and smiled up at me again, tilting slightly to her right before quickly two-stepping around me and into my cramped changing room.

“I’m looking for Mom’s bouquet, it isn’t in here is it?”

“Why would it be in here?” I asked blankly, turning in the doorway to stare after her as she started poking curiously around in my bag and the drawers of the dresser, those along with the chair being the only three things in the room besides me.

“Hmm” she said casually, not listening to me, pulling her purse-string off her shoulder and dropping her little, mostly decorative purse on the corner of the dresser table.

“But I’m glad you’re here, Selena, I’ve been wanting to get you alone- er- to talk to you about some things.”

She stops poking around, turning on the spot and smiling that same slightly distrusting smile at me again.

“It’s about You, and Me, and your Mother... and most of all Today. Now I know you’re mother’s had the talk with you-.”

“About sex?” she asks, startling me with her sudden foray into the conversation.

“N... no, the talk about me. We’ve known each other a while now kiddo, and we get along pretty well don’t we?”

Her suspicious smile faltered for a moment before she finally nods her agreement.

I went on “The fact that I’m going to be officially part of the family now, your family, doesn’t have to change a thing between you and I. I’ll still be ‘Brian’ if that’s how you want me- er- how you want to call me. Or you could call me step-dad but you never have to feel obliged to call me Dad, okay. That’s your father’s name and I certainly don’t want to step on Rick’s toes. Do you understand?”

Selena’s face darkens briefly- an impressive thing for someone to be able to do at thirteen- when I mentioned her biological father. Ricardo had moved, independently from Mandy and Selena but because of them, to Los Angeles when they did. Up until nine months earlier when some unknown aspects of his finances came under investigation from the FBI and he'd made the move back to Dallas.

“He’s not my Daddy anymore” Selena said in a low, resentful voice.

Then all at once her face brightened and her mood lightened and she smiled, genuinely, up into my face.

“You’re my Daddy now” she states with an assertive little nod.

I smile, holding her eye-line to keep her from noticing as I shift my weight back slightly at the hips. My dick had given another lurch at the way her voice would lower into a kittenish growl with the word ‘Daddy.’

“Good, I’m really happy you feel that way” I said, my hands fidgeting subconsciously as her gaze didn’t unlock from me. Was she waiting for something?

“I think...” she starts slowly, letting me breathe a sigh of relief that our purely sweet moment hadn’t gotten awkward. “The first thing I should do for my Daddy is help him tie his bowtie.”

I smile lamely, holding up both ends of the thing “You know how?”

She nods, grabbing the front edge of the dresser table and pulling herself up to sit on it, then she reaches her arms out towards me like for a hug. “Old Dad was in show business.”

I nod “Ah” and step forward, making sure to stop a good five inches from the front of the dresser, she was sitting with her knees together, legs hanging off the front of the table- my half hearted erection would have bobbled against her shins if I hadn’t.

She grunts with dissatisfaction, having to stretch her arms to reach not only up but out to get at my neck. “I can’t reach, you need to stand closer” she asserts, trying to scoot herself forward on the table – her knee accidentally brushes against the front of my tuxedo pants and I suppress a hiss as she knocked my cock like a bobble-head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” I reply instinctually at the sensation vibrating through my pants and boxers. I nearly choked on my own tongue when the blatant meaning of my words suddenly struck me.

“Right,” she nodded, blissfully unaware. “Because I’d crease the pants... Here.”

I suppressed another noise, this time a gulp as she quickly let go of my bow-tie ends and grabbed the skirt of her dress. With a yank and side to side shuffling of her little butt, she hikes her dress up higher and higher, until several inches of skin above her knees are exposed.

“Selena!” I caution her, then take a breath to try and remove some of the panic from my voice “you-you’re mother wouldn’t be happy if she saw you messing up that dress.”

Selena ignores me, her dress sufficiently high enough now – I could see half of the tops of her thighs – she reaches up and snatches my bow-tie ends again.

“You need to come closer” she grumbles again and quickly I feel the backs of her bare calves on the backs of my thighs.

I bark a loud, startled noise as little Selena tenses her surprisingly toned leg muscles and pulled my legs and thus my whole body forward until my erection is banged painfully between my crotch and the front edge of the hard-wood desk.

“Oomph” I let out, hands planting onto the desk on either side of Selena, my considerably long upper body bent forward, hunched over her. Then she's looking up at me, her eyes suddenly dusky and dark and her features hanging slack in awe as she stares into my eyes. For a moment we just breathe, her breathing out, the warm air clouding between us before I breathe it in.

“That should be close enough” she nods and I quickly pull back, standing upright and trying to step back but her legs are still wrapped around mine. If I use a little strength I'm afraid I’ll pull her all the way off the table.

She scoots forward, her crotch suddenly pressing against my lower abdomen through the tuxedo shirt as she busies her hands with my collar.

For a brief, insane moment I'm left wondering how much of her dress-hem had been hiked up and away from her crotch. Were Selena’s little panties rubbing directly against my shirt... no, the dress had about three layers of material, the chances of her underwear being directly against my shirt were slim to none.

What the hell am I thinking, Selena’s panties, There, I did it again. What in the fuck is wrong with me, she’s your step-daughter man, about to be anyway.

“You have a thick neck” she comments in a slightly put-out voice as her hands fiddle with the half-tied knot, evidently she decided it wasn’t coming out right because she pulled it loose and started again.

“Hmm” was all I could trust myself to say aloud seeing as how fucked up my thoughts were at the moment.

Then, all of a sudden, the fucked-up-ness went into red alert.

I feel something, just a tingle at first but I barely have time to register its existence before it immediately starts to grow larger. It's a small but widening patch of warm... damp, sponging into the front of my tuxedo shirt just below my belly-button.

I allow myself a brief glance down, between Selena’s outstretched arms to her crotch. Yep, it was lined up directly with where the warm, wet patch was now starting to become unavoidably noticeable.

Was she... No. There was no way. SHE’S THIRTEEN YOU SICKO, get it out of your head. Calm down.

Selena Gomez, your thirteen-year-old stepdaughter is not getting wet down there from tying your bow-tie. I don’t even think thirteen-year-olds are hooked up down there to be able to do that yet.

“There, done” she says suddenly with a smile, her legs tense and press harder against the back of mine for a moment.

I tilt the top half of my body back away from her, breathing a sigh of relief at the small amount of distance. There had been times in my high-school days when a girl getting that close to me, legal age or not, could only end one way.

“Now” she continues in a low, insistent whisper that catches my attention immediately “give me your cum-”

My heart practically jumps out of my chest and the voice that I respond with is small, like a rat being trodden on, “What... what was that?”

“Your cummerbund” she restates, a little louder now, “give it to me, I might as well tie it too while I’m here.”

She wiggles her hips, rubbing the wet patch between her inner thighs harder against me.

“No” I insist louder than I should, grabbing her legs just above the knees and prying them off of my hips, freeing myself and stepping back. “I-I uh- wasn’t going to wear it.”

She hesitates just briefly, big brown eyes studying my face, obviously questioning my bizarrely strong reaction.

“Okay” she smiles, hopping nimbly off the dresser table and stepping up to me.

She reaches up, grabbed my shoulder and pulling me down, I allow her to and am rewarded with a peck on the cheek.

“See you soon Daddy.”

She leaves the room and I breathe a sigh of relief, checking the mirror and focusing on the fact that she’d actually done a good job on the bowtie... anything to keep from focusing on the other fact that little Selena had just gotten her pussy wet doing something as innocuous as tying a bowtie.

On top of that there’s the fact that the only way I’d have felt it would be if she weren’t wearing panties at all. Meaning her teenage sex was bare... nope, didn't happen, there had to be another explanation.

The more I think about it, the more I'm shocked and disgusted with myself. I was sexualizing my thirteen-year-old stepdaughter... what the hell is wrong with me. Now that the little pheromone factory has left the room I can breathe again and am positive that at least eighty percent of the sexual tension in that exchange had been caused by my over-active imagination. She's just a kid after all.

It's then that I notice the little purple purse still sitting on the corner of the dresser table.

I pick it up gingerly, expecting to feel the rattle of Selena’s cell phone or a digital camera bouncing around inside. Instead however I feel something else, a solid mass that doesn’t shift around even with a little experimental shake.

Curious, I unsnap the flap on the purse and opened it, finding inside a thick piece of pink and white patterned material. I grab a visible seam and pulled it out, regretting it immediately when the pair of Selena’s pink and white panties came fluttering out in my hand.

She clearly just took them off because it was hot in the chapel, she’s only a Kid after all and didn’t know any better.

Yes. I’d do well to stay right away from thoughts like that, she shouldn’t even be fully aware of sexuality yet let alone capable of that level of sexual aggression.

But still... I look down and groan, seeing the small stain on the front of my shirt, it's a clear, vertical oval shape. Part of me wants to untuck my shirt, raise it up to my nose and smell it.

I put the cummerbund on instead.

April 6 2008 – 8:58 PM

I'm sitting on the couch, my loving and beautiful wife Mandy snuggled up next to me; we're watching America’s next top model or some bullshit like that. I couldn’t be paying less attention if I wanted too; really I'm just going through the motions by staring at the screen. My eyes flickering to the clock on the wall of the living room, up until now I'd say I spent more time watching the hands of the clock than I did the screen as Tyra storms around, getting all ‘Uhm-Hmm’ at someone.

The room is dark, the light had been on when Mandy and I came in and sat down after dinner but I’d been sure to turn it off when Top Model started. The only light in the room was the slow-changing kaleidoscope of colour from the TV screen

The minute hand ticks another tock and that's my queue. Standing quickly, but making a show of looking casual I cross the room towards the door into the hall, heading for the kitchen.

“M’getting a drink, do you want anything?” I asked my TV-enraptured wife.

She shakes her head, eyes not leaving the screen.

As soon as I'm out of her field of view I dash the length of the hallway, pull a glass out of the cupboard, half-fill it with ice and water even though it's not an especially hot night, then dash back down the hall towards the living room.

As I'm passing the bottom of the stairs I turn, seeing a column of light suddenly break open on the upstairs hallway wall as Selena’s bedroom door opens.

I skid to a halt, taking a moment to compose myself before rounding the corner into the living room, Mandy hasn’t moved an inch. I smile at her as her eyes briefly leave the set to catch mine, a loving smile in them before they return to her show.

“That was quick” she comments.

I hesitate, halfway down to taking my seat not on the couch next to her but in the recliner in the corner by the archway, further from the TV.

“Was it” I ask innocently, she shrugs with one shoulder and doesn't as
Natasha Dolling
Shemele Sex
Daughter Pregnant By Daddy