Stepmom's hungry weekend

You’d think after three years of living together, I’d get used to Tom’s routine. I could set my watch by the sound of his electric toothbrush and the muffled cursing at NPR blaring from the bathroom. Today, he left an hour earlier than usual, padding through the hallway in the same faded slippers, pausing at the bedroom door to kiss my hair with the sleepy tenderness of a man who assumed the world was his, and also assumed he’d be coming home to a hot dinner and slightly hotter girlfriend.

“Call me if you get bored,” he said. “I’m sure the big bad house will be lonely without me.”

I faked a laugh, letting it slide over the lump of resentment that always appeared when he was most sincere. “Go have fun at your stupid conference, honey. Try not to get so drunk this time.”

He winked. “No promises.”

I waited five minutes before letting out a sigh after he left. Tom was small, really small. I was dissatisfied. I wanted more. I wanted a cock that didn’t disappear when I closed my thighs. I wanted to be split open and left gasping. I wanted to be worshipped like a goddess, not just the woman who remembered to buy soy milk and sucked him off twice a month out of guilt.

A crash echoed from the hallway, shattering my moping. I shot up in bed, heart hammering, picturing burglars, raccoons, or worse, Tom, back for the laptop he always forgot.

Instead, I heard water running and a thump, followed by a sharp, “Shit!”

I pulled on the thin robe hanging from my bedpost, not bothering to tie it, and padded barefoot toward the bathroom. My stepson, Mark, was probably up. It was Saturday, so I wasn’t sure what plans he had for today.

I rapped twice on the bathroom door. “Mark? You okay?”

A muffled, “Yeah! Uh, sorry. I just …” His voice trailed off, embarrassed. If he was jerking off, I was going to die, or maybe just stand outside the door and listen, but either way, I had to open and check in on him.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” I pushed the door open, and the sight hit me like a slap.

Mark stood, naked, dripping wet and towel on the floor next to him. His hair, always a little too short for my liking, was plastered to his forehead. Water slid down his chest in perfect lines, pooling at the V of his abs and then, inevitably, at the thing between his legs that looked entirely fake.

I’d seen big cocks. I’d even dated a guy in college whose nickname was Tripod, but this, this was on another level. It hung from his body, thick and long and, as I stared, visibly swelling, rising with each heartbeat.

“Oh my god—” I blurted, then clapped a hand over my mouth.

Mark fumbled for the towel, missed, and ended up covering himself with one hand. He blushed so hard I thought he might faint. “Sorry! I slipped, I didn’t know—”

I bent to grab the towel, averting my gaze, but my peripheral vision recorded every inch. “Let me help. Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” My voice sounded soft and motherly, which was the last thing I felt.

“No, just my elbow.” He held it out, and I examined a patch of red.

I pressed the towel into his hand and risked a glance at his face. He looked at me with the same mix of terror and hunger I used to see in freshman boys when I ran the soccer moms’ bake sale at his old high school. “Just be careful,” I whispered, unable to stop the tremor in my voice.

He nodded, towel tenting in front of him like the sail of a pirate ship. “I will. Sorry.”

I closed the door behind me and stood in the hallway, adrenaline sparking in every nerve. My robe was damp between my legs, and it wasn’t from the bathroom steam.

I wanted him. I wanted him so much I felt it in my molars.

I made my way back to the bedroom and pressed my palm against the spot between my thighs, confirming what I already knew: I was soaked, embarrassingly so. I was old enough to be this boy’s mother, but I’d just ogled him the way men in bars used to ogle me, and I liked it.

I’d seen him shirtless before, swimming, at the gym and even just taking out the trash in summer, but I never let myself stare. Now, my brain replayed the cock-swinging moment on loop, like a viral video I couldn’t stop rewatching.

Mark, my stepson, nineteen, but with a body made for sin.

I splashed cold water on my face and forced myself to get dressed in something normal, yoga pants, braless tank top, the uniform of a woman who wanted to be comfortable and invisible. But when I passed the full-length mirror, I stopped. My nipples pushed through the fabric, blue eyes glassy with hunger. I’d never looked sluttier. I wasn’t bad-looking in general. I had natural C cup breasts, nice hips and a bubbly butt made for grabbing and fucking, but certainly not for small dicks. My hair was still lustrous and dark, which complemented my slightly tanned skin. I wondered if I had what it took to seduce him …

*****

Downstairs, I poured myself some tea and sat at the kitchen island, phone in hand, pretending to check emails. Every so often, I heard Mark shuffling in his room, opening drawers, probably trying to forget what happened. But I knew men, especially men that age, and I knew what he was thinking about.

I thought about Tom’s cock, and how, even when it was at its best, I had to fake being impressed. Mark’s would never fit in my mouth, let alone my hand. He could actually fuck me doggy. With Tom, it kept slipping out all the time because it was so small.

Ten minutes later, Mark came down in sweats and a T-shirt, hair still damp. His eyes darted around, never quite meeting mine.

“Morning,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “Eggs or waffles?”

He hesitated. “Waffles, please.”

I pulled the batter from the fridge, working quickly. “You okay after the fall?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” he mumbled, sinking onto a stool. He picked at a scar on his knuckle, trying to seem busy.

I worked the waffle iron. “You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” I said, back still to him. “About the slip.”

He coughed. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Usually, Dad’s the only one up that early.”

I flipped a waffle onto his plate and set the syrup in front of him. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”

He grinned, a real one, and I felt my chest go tight. He was cute, in a golden retriever way, broad shoulders, green eyes and smile so wide it made you want to pinch his cheeks. He inhaled the waffle in three bites, syrup shining on his lips.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and crossed my arms, pushing my breasts together just enough to test him. “Plans today?”

He shook his head. “Not really. You?”

I licked syrup from my fingertip, making sure he saw my rosy tongue. “Just a lot of laundry.”

He stared, open-mouthed, then caught himself and looked away. I wanted to laugh, or maybe just lean across the counter and see if I could make him squirm. Instead, I played it safe.

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be around.”

He nodded, then shuffled back upstairs. I watched him go, ass flexing under the thin fabric of his sweats. The moment he turned the corner, I let myself breathe.

I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But my panties were soaked, and my hands shook with want.

*****

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the sliding glass doors. I’d spent the last hour cleaning, or pretending to. Every time I caught sight of myself in a reflective surface, I adjusted my clothes: more cleavage, less cleavage, pull the yoga pants up higher, let them ride lower.

When I finally cracked, I changed into my favorite bikini, a black string thing I’d bought for Tom but never worn. The top barely covered my nipples, the bottoms were less coverage than floss. I put on some makeup, a bold red lipstick and powdered my cheeks slightly rosy. I also put on some mascara, trying to make myself as sexy as possible. Then, I draped a sheer kimono over it and grabbed the sunblock.

Mark was out back, stretched on a lounge chair, phone in hand. I could see the corded strength of his arms. Damn, he wasn’t only packing but incredibly good-looking. I slid the door open and stepped onto the deck, the heat swallowing me.

He looked up, and his jaw dropped. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” I said. “Mind helping me with my back?” I dangled the sunblock from two fingers and arched my spine, knowing exactly what I was doing.

He set his phone down, hands suddenly fidgety. “Yeah, of course.”

I sat next to him, close enough that our knees touched, and shrugged the kimono off. “You ever done this before?”

He squeezed a glob onto his palm and hesitated. “Not really.”

“Don’t be shy,” I whispered. “Just … start at the shoulders.”

His hands were warm and gentle at first, but as I leaned forward, I felt the pressure increase. He kneaded my shoulder blades, working down my back in slow circles. When he hit the knot at the base of my spine, I let out a soft moan, more dramatic than necessary.

“God, you’re good at this,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

His face was inches from my ass. He swallowed. “I, uh, work out a lot.”

“I can tell.” I twisted so his hand grazed the side of my breast. His fingers paused, then resumed.

I turned, sunblock gleaming on my skin. “Your turn?” I asked, and before he could answer, I lightly pushed him down, and I straddled his lap, facing him as my tits bounced right over his face. His eyes went wide, hands hovering midair.

I pressed my hands to his chest, tracing the cut of his pecs. “You’re tense,” I said. “Relax.”

His cock, trapped beneath his shorts, pressed against my bikini bottom, heat radiating through both fabrics. I shifted, grinding just enough for him to feel it.

“Lisa,” he said.

I met his eyes. “I saw you this morning,” I told him. “You were quite impressive down there.”

He blushed. “Oh, I didn’t know you saw it.”

“A bit hard to miss,” I said, with a giggle that helped ease the mood.

“Most girls think it’s weird, or too big.”

“They’re idiots.” I squeezed his thigh, then slid my hand up, stopping just below the waistband as I felt his cock hardening further. “Do you like older women?”

He nodded, barely breathing.

I smiled. “Do you want me?”

He nodded again, this time with conviction. “But … what if—”

“If he finds out?”

He nodded, swallowing hard, which just made him look cuter.

“He won’t … this will stay between you and me.”

“Okay,” he said, looking a bit relieved.

“Good,” I said, and leaned in. I kissed him, tasting syrup and sweat, his lips parting for me instantly. His hands landed on my ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.

I rolled my hips, feeling him grow harder and harder. I broke the kiss and looked down. “Can I see it again?” I whispered.

He shivered. “Yeah.”

I slipped my hand under his waistband, fingers wrapping around his cock. It was hotter than I expected, and thicker. I stroked it, watching his face as I did. He moaned, bucking into my grip.

I tugged his shorts down, freeing him. It slapped against his stomach, red and beautiful. “Wow … it’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.”

He looked proud, and I looked inside. “Come, let’s go to the couch.”

I took Mark by the hand and led him inside. I glanced over my shoulder to see Mark’s eyes fixed on my ass, his massive erection bobbing with each step.

“Living room,” I whispered, tugging him toward the plush sectional where Tom and I usually watched movies. The thought of defiling it sent a thrill through me.

Mark sank onto the couch, his cock standing proudly against his stomach. I dropped to my knees between his legs, running my hands up his thighs.

“Gosh, your cock is sexy,” I admitted, licking my lips as I stared at his enormous shaft. It looked even bigger up close, veins running along the length, the head swollen and already glistening with precum. I wrapped my hand around him, my fingers not even meeting around his girth. “God, you’re huge.” I leaned forward and ran my tongue from the base to the tip, tasting salt and musk. Mark gasped, his hips jerking forward.

I took the head into my mouth, my lips stretching wide. It was like trying to eat an apple whole. I couldn’t believe how much he filled me, and I’d only managed the first couple of inches.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, watching me struggle. His fingers threaded through my hair, not pushing, just holding on like he needed an anchor.

I pulled back, saliva connecting my lips to his cock. “I don’t think I can take all of you,” I admitted, stroking him with both hands. “But I’m going to try.”

I dove back down, relaxing my throat as much as possible, taking him deeper. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I fought my gag reflex. I managed maybe half before I had to retreat, gasping for air.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Mark whispered, his face flushed with pleasure. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I interrupted, pumping him with my hands while catching my breath. “I want to make you feel good.”

I went back to work, alternating between deep strokes and focusing on the sensitive head, swirling my tongue around it while my hands pumped the shaft. His breathing grew ragged, and I looked up, meeting his eyes as I worshipped his cock, salivating so much that it dribbled down his length and pooled at the base.

The look of pure bliss on his face made me throb between my legs. I’d never felt so powerful, bringing this young stud to the edge with just my mouth.

“Can I see your tits?” he asked suddenly. “Please?”

I sat back on my heels, reaching behind me to untie my bikini top. I let it fall away slowly, revealing my breasts, full and firm with hard nipples. Mark’s eyes widened as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“You’re fucking hot,” he said, reaching for me.

I climbed onto his lap, straddling him as his hands cupped my breasts. He was gentle at first. “Squeeze them harder,” I told him with a wink. It made him more confident, squeezing and kneading. When he leaned forward and sucked on my nipple, I cried out, grinding against his cock through my bikini bottoms.

“God, your tits are amazing,” he murmured against my skin, switching to the other breast. His tongue circled my nipple before he sucked it hard, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. He was no longer a shy boy, unleashing his teenage fantasies.

And I was equally as horny. I couldn’t wait any longer. I stood up just long enough to pull my bikini bottoms off. Positioning myself over him, I rubbed his cock head against my pussy lips, coating him with my wetness and seeing his eyes widen to saucers.

“You’re so wet,” he said in awe, his hands gripping my hips.

“All for you,” I replied. I pushed the cock into the hole, and then slowly, I sank down. The stretch was immediate and intense. I’d never felt anything like it. I had to stop halfway, panting, adjusting to his size.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern mixing with lust in his eyes.

I nodded, biting my lip. “Just … so big. Give me a second.”

Gradually, I took more of him, until finally, I had him all the way inside me. I felt stuffed, stretched to my absolute limit. It hurt a little, but in the best possible way.

“Oh my god,” I moaned, beginning to move. My breasts bounced with each rise and fall, and Mark couldn’t tear his eyes away. “You’re stretching me so much.”

I rode him. The pain gave way to pleasure, intense and all-consuming. Each time I bottomed out, I felt him pressing against spots Tom had never reached.

“You’re so much bigger than your dad,” I confessed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Fill me up. Stretch me out.”

Mark groaned, thrusting up to meet me. “You’re so tight. So fucking tight.”

“That’s because your cock is so huge,” I gasped, grinding down on him. “I can feel you everywhere.”

He leaned forward, capturing my mouth in a sweet kiss. Our tongues danced as I rode him harder, chasing my orgasm. His hands roamed everywhere, my breasts, my ass, my back, like he couldn’t get enough of touching me. He made me feel wanted. And I loved that.

The air between us grew thick with the scent of musk and sweat, his fresh, youthful aroma mingling with my own aroused heat, a heady mix that filled the room. Every grind of my hips down onto his massive cock made me wetter, my juices coating him completely, dripping down his shaft and soaking his balls. My vagina was overflowing, and I’d never felt that in my life.

It felt incredible for me as a woman, that deep, stretching fullness hitting places I’d forgotten existed, the pressure building in my core like a storm, waves of pleasure radiating from where we were joined.

I looked down at his face, seeing the raw pleasure etched there, eyes half-lidded in ecstasy, mouth parted as he gasped my name, cheeks flushed red like he was lost in a dream he never wanted to wake from. It turned me on even more, knowing I was doing this to him, making his body tremble. The slap of flesh echoed through the room, wet, filthy smacks as my thighs met his hips, my ass bouncing against his groin with every downward thrust. His hands roamed up from my waist, grabbing onto my ass firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh, kneading and spreading me as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck, Lisa,” he groaned, his grip tightening, pulling me down harder onto him.

I rode him faster, the friction on my clit sending sparks through me. The warmth of his cock inside me felt so alive, so young and potent, hot, throbbing pulses that made my walls clench greedily around him. My orgasm built suddenly. I moaned, body shaking as I came, my pussy spasming wildly around his length, juices gushing out and soaking us both. The pleasure was overwhelming, like fireworks exploding in my core.

He didn’t last much longer either, his face twisted in bliss, hips bucking up wildly. “I’m coming … oh fuck …” With a deep groan, he erupted inside me, shooting thick ropes of cum that filled me completely. It felt so warm, so vital, young and potent, flooding my insides in hot pulses that seemed to go on forever, mixing with my own wetness and leaking out around his base. I ground down one last time, milking every drop, enjoying the sensation of being so utterly claimed by a hot, younger guy.

After a while, I sighed, long, satisfied, relieved, and slowly lifted myself off him. His cock slipped free with a wet sound, glistening with our combined mess, a thick strand of cum stretching from my entrance to his tip before it snapped and dripped onto his stomach.

I slid down his body and took him back into my mouth. My tongue swirled around the sensitive head, lapping up every trace of us, salty, tangy and warm. I moaned around him, cleaning him thoroughly, enjoying the taste of our sin until he was shiny and spent.

When I finally pulled off, I crawled back up and curled against his side, head on his chest and one leg draped over his. His arm wrapped around me, hand resting possessively on my ass.

“This stays between us,” I whispered, tracing circles on his skin. “No one can ever know.”

He nodded, throat working. “I know.”

I lifted my head, meeting his eyes. A slow, wicked smile curved my lips. “But I’m not done with you, baby.” My hand slid down to wrap around his softening cock, giving it one gentle squeeze. “Not even close. This huge thing …” I stroked him once, feeling him twitch. “… this is mine now. I want it again, and again. Whenever I need to feel full … whenever I need to be reminded what a real man feels like.”

I leaned in and kissed him. “So get used to sneaking around,” I murmured against his mouth. “Because I’m going to need you inside me a lot more often than you think.”

His cock gave a strong throb in my hand, already stirring again. I smiled wider, eyes glittering.

“Good boy,” I said, settling against him. “Now hold me … we’ve got all weekend.”

Thank you for reading!