Step-mother’s revenge
“Your father’s an arsehole,” she said. Surprised, I said, “What?” She’d been sitting on the stairs when I walked into the house. Startled because I hadn’t expected to see her there, I’d blurted out, “Jeez, you scared me,” pausing before adding, “How come you’re sat there?” That’s when she’d said it. I’d closed the front door and dropped my sports-bag onto the floor, car keys going into the small bowl on top of the wooden cabinet. It was when I glanced up towards the first-floor landing I’d seen her. After I’d asked the question, she’d sucked in air and blown it all out in a long, exasperated sigh. “He’s away again. Working,” she spat, derision in her tone and expression. “That girl’s with him, too.” There’d been tension for weeks. I’d felt it around the house, noticed the shift in my parents’ demeanour and the way they were around each other. They were behaving in a strange way. Brittle and formal. Two dogs sniffing one another as they sussed out if there was any dispute or a need to fight. For my part I’d largely ignored it. It had nothing to do with me. I was nineteen. I had my life going on. Out of some innate loyalty to my dad, I shrugged and said, “She’s his assistant, mum. She’s gonna go away with him. It’s just work.” She scoffed at that, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen his emails,” she said. “He thinks he’s deleting them from his account but doesn’t realise they stay in the trash folder for a few days.” I felt anxiety clutch at my guts as I said, “You check his email?” She nodded, shrugging. “Yes. It’s proof.” The anxiety ballooned to fear of the future. If my step-mother had caught my father in an affair… “Shit,” I breathed, mind full of possible outcomes. “Yeah,” my step-mother drawled. I stood just inside the front door, head tilted slightly so I could look up at where she was on the stairs and, despite the revelation of my father’s likely infidelity, was still vaguely aware of how attractive my step-mother was. I’d be lying if I said it had never crossed my mind about how it would be to see her nude. I might have fantasised a few times, picturing her all slim and toned and lithe, my head full of imaginings about her little tits and if she was hairy down between her legs. My step-mother runs a spa.
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She’s a yoga instructor. Mature, fit, blonde, and lovely. Sexy and eminently fuckable. Looking up, I saw the red heels strapped at her ankles. Those shoes had lethal spiked heels which put tension on her smooth calves, the effect stirring me on a visceral level. She was wearing a skirt in cornflower blue and bootlace top, her eyes fixed on me, her straight blonde hair loose down to her shoulders. “He’s out shagging that little-fucking-bitch,” my step-mother added. It was another shock to hear the vehement outburst. My step-mother’s manner has always been calm and serene. The past few weeks notwithstanding, cracks in her smooth façade showing themselves, my step-mother wasn’t prone to anger or profanity. In response, confused because I could feel the lure of her physical appeal tugging my vitals, nonplussed at the uncharacteristic aggression, and embarrassed at the situation between my mum and my dad, I shrugged and said, “I don’t think it’s any of my business.” My step-mother stared at me for several long seconds. Then she sighed again. “You’re being cruel,” she said. That’s when I noticed the glass and the bottle on a step a couple of treads higher than where my step-mother was sitting. I thrust my chin towards the bottle. “How much wine have you had?” “Half of it.” My step-mother gave a half-shrug. “So what?” “You don’t usually drink.” She let out a dry, bitter-sounding chuckle. “No, but I think I need it today.” There was something in the way she said it which caused a ripple of unease along my spine. Another contributory factor to the tingle of unease shivering down my back was the look in her eyes. For some reason I couldn’t define, there was something unsettling about what I heard and saw. “Yuh-you’re just upset,” I stammered. My step-mother paused, her gaze set on my face. It went on for quite some time, the seconds elastic as a primordial instinct slithered in the mucky depths. It was some prehistoric, lizard brain notion of something not in tune. “You have no idea how I feel,” my step-mother said on a murmur. Her tone caused another slide of atavistic response deep in my core, and it was yet another shock to feel my cock thicken and grow. With all that going on, I gulped down on the abrupt and unexpected rush of desire. “No,” I said, appalled yet thrilled by what I was feeling. “I guess I don’t.” “The thing is--” My step-mother started and stopped, eyes sliding away
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from my face. She sighed and shook her head in what seemed to be a reaction to internal wrangling. Then she muttered a curse and reached for the wine. “What?” I asked. She sipped, focus returning to me. “Told you I needed this drink,” my step-mother said. She offered me a watery grin, lips uptilted at one corner in a wry expression. Then she repeated, “The thing is…” pausing again. I didn’t reply. I just waited, a sense of something momentous in the offing at the back of my mind. “Well, to tell the truth,” my step-mother continued, trying again. “I’ve been thinking about you an awful lot lately, Callum.” I had a sense of what was to come, but truly had no idea of the scale. “You remind me of how your dad used to be when I first met him. He was older than you, of course. But yeah, you’re so like he used to be.” My step-mother paused and drank more wine. “Only you’re a lot kinder,” she finished. “Yeah, well…” I said, embarrassed. “When I say I’ve been thinking about you…” my step-mother continued. It surprised me to see how hot she was blushing when I looked into her face. “…I mean when your dad’s been away … When I’ve been alone in bed.” I heard what she said but didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense in that moment, not with everything else I had to cope with. Next, in a surreal, shocking, and ultimately life-changing action, I gawked when my step-mother lifted her rump and, one-handed and muttering in frustration at her recalcitrant skirt, she hiked the thing up to her waist. “You can have it, Callum,” my step-mother said on a sigh. I boggled in disbelief, speechless and awed by the sight of my step-mother’s pussy, her thighs smooth and widespread. “I shaved it for you,” my step-mother added. “Well,” she murmured, “not that I had any real intention of ever showing off to you like this. But you were on my mind when I did it.” “Oh fuck … Oh Jesus,” I heard myself gurgle. “No knickers, Callum,” my step-mother breathed. “I’m wet, too. I sort of knew this was going to happen. I denied it, of course; but I always knew that I’d be making tis offer.” It all swelled inside me on a hot, huge bubble of need. On an intellectual level I recognised just who it was flaunting her sex in such a lewd fashion. I understood she was
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my step-mother, the only woman I’d ever known in the female nurturing role. Anette had married my father when I was three years old. She was a mother to me in name and deed. There might not be a biological link, but, emotionally, she was my mother and I loved her as such. The thing is, seeing an attractive blonde offering her sex was a high-impact shock. I didn’t associate the gorgeous blonde exhibiting herself on the stairs with any maternal role in my life. To me, in that instant, that snapshot of time, with the lust roiling within, my step-mother was a target for my desire. I was nineteen. Pumped with hormones, my cock an iron rod, I felt a near overwhelming and instinctive urge to fuck my cock into her pussy. “I want to lick it,” I said, not knowing I was going to utter the words. My step-mother sucked her lower lip between her teeth, her stare hot-eyed and glazed before she closed her eyes, wincing as she mumbled, “Oh, fuck, darling, yes please. You can do that.” It was a dream sensation as I went up the few stairs to where she was sitting. As I went, I watched my step-mother swivel at the waist as she reached up to put her glass down. “Callum,” she whimpered when I got to my knees. “God, is this real?” My step-mother shifted her bottom and spread her legs as wide as they’d go. She moaned and splayed her folds, exposing her core, her body glistening, her core scarlet with what I took to be her own burning desire. “Lick it,” my step-mother gasped, face slack with whatever it was she was feeling inside. “You’re lovely,” I mumbled on a rush of emotion. Then, for an unbelievable, fantastic few minutes, I lapped at my step-mother’s sex, licking and sucking her body while tasting her essence. I started off licking her clit, taking instruction on how she wanted it done. I lapped at her bean, sliding a finger into her body when she gasped at me to do it, another digit going in so I could rub her at the place within she was so eager to get me working on. My step-mother mumbled and groaned, fucking herself onto my fingers while I tried to keep up the pressure on her button with my tongue. She wriggled, and groaned out her joy, gasping on about how much she
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loved me and what a cheating, dirty, despicable bastard my father had turned out to be. “Imagine if he knew you had your tongue on my cunt,” my step-mother said, groaning the filth. “He can have that stuck-up bitch. I’m going to get some fun, too. You all right with that, Callum, my angel? Think you’re man enough to satisfy me?” “Cuh-can I fuck you?” I sighed, looking up at her face. My step-mother smiled and rolled her eyes. “Of course, silly,” she said. “Why else do you think I got you to lick me? Of course we’re going to do it. In for a penny, in for a pound. We’ve gone this far; it wouldn’t make any sense for us to stop now.” It had only been a matter of minutes since I’d walked into the house. Now, in such a short space of time, the blink of an eye, a quick conversation and much confusion later, and I was knelt on the stairs, my fingers working inside my step-other’s body as I went upright, her fingers hooking the nape of my neck. Before I knew it my step-other had pulled me in for a kiss, an intimate swirl if our tongues to seal the clandestine deal. We were going to become lovers. I’d be fucking my father’s wife, the woman I knew as my step-mother. I tasted the wine as the kiss rolled on, the flavour on her tongue and laced in her breath. When the kiss broke, with her cunt squelching and farting around my fingers, my step-mother’s orgasm hit. She was rubbing her clit, squirming while the squeaks and moans tumbled out of her mouth. “Oh God, Callum,” she groaned. “Kiss me again. I’m going to come.” * I first went into my step-mother from behind. When her climax broke on the stairs, the judders consuming her body as she sobbed and grunted and held my wrist to keep my fingers inside her, my step-mother gasped out she wanted to fuck. She writhed and shook, close to sending the wineglass tumbling down the stairs. My step-mother worked her hips, corkscrewing her pelvis so my fingers went deeper into her body. “Rub me inside,” she said, sobbing it out. “Callum, this is so sweet…” Next, when her orgasm cooled and she was still sucking in huge gulps of air, my step-mother pushed me away. Then she climbed to her feet, shaky at first, a hand on the
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rail. “Bedroom,” my step-mother said, breathless and panting. I watched her skirt fall around her legs as she stepped over the glass and bottle on her way to the landing above. “Come on,” my step-mother said after a pause. She was looking down at me, face without expression, carved out of stone. I stayed where I was, staring as the enormity of what I was doing percolated through. I could taste her on my lips, her essence smeared on my face. My cock was rock hard, pre-cum seeping and cold in my underwear. As I watched I was only vaguely aware of the weight of my hanging jaw. “Fuck,” I sighed when, in a deliberate move, my step-mother lifted her skirt. “This is yours,” she said with a smirk. “Your father doesn’t seem to be interested any more. Maybe you’d like to use it?” Desire clogged my throat when I nodded. “Mum, do you mean it?” I groaned. My step-mother shrugged and then pushed the skirt down past her hips. A moment later, after kicking the skirt aside, she posed, hands on her hip-bones, bare pussy thrust forth. “Yeah, I fucking mean it. Get up here. Come and fuck me.” I stared at the pale outline of where her tiny bikini briefs had covered her body, the rest of her skin tanned and smooth. It was awesome to see my step-mother’s toned thighs and hairless vulva, the feminine shape of her body tugging my vitals. The shoes gave her legs an erotic, aesthetic appeal which had me groping the front of my jeans. “You want this as much as I do,” my step-mother said, smirking at me. “You better stop looking and come and get it,” she added, moving away. When I got to her bedroom she turned and put her hands onto the top of the dresser, angling her hips to offer herself, pelvis tilted so I could get at her cunt. “Oh, darling,” my step-mother sighed when I was ready behind her. My jeans were at my knees, my cock in one hand while she was creased at the waist, swivelling to look back at me over one shoulder. “Yeah, just put it in,” she moaned, splaying her buttocks. “Don’t much about, Callum. Just put it in.” I held my dick, the bulb aimed at my step-mother’s sex. I cranked the shaft to tease myself, my eyes set on her body, the impression searing into memory like a cattle-brand. It was a
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sight I didn’t ever want to forget. I had no idea what would happen in the days and weeks to come. It could be a one-off event, a single moment of madness in my step-mother brought about by her husband’s infidelity. Maybe we’d fuck again in the future -- I didn’t have a clue at the time. But, one thing I knew for certain, even with the confusion and excitement of the moment upon me, I was going to store the impressions away for future use. I’d wank-off on the sweep and curve of my step-mother’s aesthetic appeal for the rest of my days, and I wanted to savour the moment. I paused, soaking it up, gazing at her waist and hips and buttocks, the mollusc of her pussy all chubby lips and enticement. “Callum, for fuck’s sake, just put it in. I want you to fuck me.” My step-mother shifted her feet, those heels giving her the height we needed for me to have easy access to her sex. She offered herself, leaning in lower at the front, her pelvis at a sharper angle while she gasped at me to enter her body. “What’s the matter?” she asked, craning around. “Don’t you want to?” “Ah, fuck, mum, ‘course I do,” I said, a hand on her hip. “Then just get on with it. Can’t you see I’m all worked up and ready?” I moved in close, pausing again when my cock nudged her body. “Mum,” I groaned, “you’re so fucking lovely.” The moment was on me. I looked down to where my dick was poised on the brink, my step-mother’s urgent gasps and moans in my ears a second before I gave a quick thrust. “Oh God,” my step-mother gasped at the second of penetration. “Callum,” she added, moaning my name. “It’s you … Inside me … Oh Jesus, oh fuck, we’re going to do it.” Her molten embrace brought a groan from deep inside me. I was inside my step-mother’s body, half my length caught by her heat. “Mum, can I really fuck you?” I groaned. Her answer was a robust shove back onto my dick. “God, yes, what do you think this has all been about?” she said, moaning it out. I pushed again, her body taking all I had. I groaned out in pleasure, my cock all the way in. Then I curled in and put an arm around her middle to pull her in close. Her scent
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reached my nose, the association of that smell and the woman I thought of as my mother at odds with who I was with. I had no right to be balls-deep inside Anette. She was a wife. She was my step-mother. But, God, there was no power on earth that could stop me from using her pussy. She’d invited me in, seduced me into her room, tempted me with her body and crude utterances. It was the shoes, her hair, her bald vulva, and the lure of her sex. As I leaned in, frontage moulded to her back, my arm around her waist, I sucked in her fragrance as started to rut. I went at my step-mother with robust vehemence, first grinding against her buttocks, my cock deep within before I began to fuck in and out, giving her the whole length of the shaft. When it started to get serious, I moved my hands to her hips, holding her tight so I could give it to her in a way that made her gasp and moan. “God, Callum, fuck me,” my step-mother sobbed, head lolling loose. Long blonde hair fell over her face as she pushed back to meet me on my way in. She held herself out on straight arms, using her palms against the dresser top to give her some leverage with which to work herself over my cock. “Your father shouldn’t have abused my trust,” my step-other gasped as our bodies slap-thwacked together. “He can have his slut,” she went on, moaning and sobbing her joy. “But I’m fucking you! Oh, Callum, my lovely big boy. Fuck your mother. Just give me your love.” “I do love you,” I moaned, the surge boiling up. “Mum, you’re gorgeous,” I gasped. “Too fucking sexy…” I was using my step-mother’s pussy like I was wanking off. It was desperate and urgent, hot, and wild. I was crazy for her body and close to bathing her cervix with cum. “Don’t come, Callum,” my step-mother warned. “Easy, baby, you’re getting far too excited.” “But I want to,” I groaned. My step-mother’s buttocks rippled as I fucked into her body. What little spare flesh she had on her hips shivered and shook under the force of my thrusting. “Not yet,” she gasped, twisting around. My step-mother pushed a hand against my chest, slipping off my dick as she eased me away. “Let’s go to the bed,” she said, throwing a glance across
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the room. “Take off those clothes and come to bed with me.” I gawked at her body, thrilled by her shoes and legs. Her body aroused me, her tiny tits covered by the red top and bra underneath. “You’re gorgeous,” I said jacking my dick. My step-mother put a hand up against the wardrobe, looking straight at me while saying, “Leave that alone. You’ll come if you don’t stop tugging that thing. Don’t waste it,” she added, thrusting her chin towards the bed. “Take your clothes off, Callum. Then we can do it with you on top. We can do it in my bed.” She paused, smirking, eyes flashing fire. “Your father’s bed,” my step-mother murmured. She gazed into my eyes and sucked her lower lip between her teeth, a hand moving down between her legs. “Your father’s wife,” my step-mother added, rubbing her bean. “Your mother, Callum,” she breathed, crinkling her nose at me. “Let’s get into bed and be dirty.” I scrambled out of my clothes, throwing my tee-shirt aside before I hopped and danced in a rushed effort to get out of my jeans. I got free as my step-mother pulled the red bootlace top over her head. Then she unclasped her bra, exposing herself entirely nude except for the shoes. “I can’t be bothered to take them off,” my step-mother said. “It’s kind of sexy keeping them on anyway, isn’t it, Callum?” “You’re beautiful,” I gasped, soaking up the sight. My step-mother grinned and gestured to the bed. “Thanks,” she said. “Now get over here. I’m ready for you.” My step-mother stood and watched me walk closer. When I reached her, awed by the moment, I put my hands on her waist and, on another rush of emotion, told her I loved her. “I love you, too,” my step-mother murmured. Then we were kissing, passion flaring while my hands moved over her body. “Let me suck you before we do it again,” my step-mother said.
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