Step-mom teases voyer step-son - sex story

Step-mom teases voyer step-son

Carmen was in the den, sitting on the couch with a knee tucked under her chin and her foot propped on the coffee table, applying polish to her toenails. She was wearing a short-waisted, loosely knitted cover-up jacket that revealed dots and dashes of a tiny, neon-orange bikini top. Except for the presence of a thin thong waistband, a profile view of her bare, toned thigh and rounded, firm buttock would give the impression she was nude from the waist down. While she concentrated on her work, a rush of wind swept up the canyon and infiltrated the privacy screen of dense evergreens surrounding the patio just outside the den. She heard, faintly, the turn of a key in the front door, and then, as the door opened, a gust of wind ruffled the curtains by the open patio doors and swept across the room. The air in the den turned cooler and smelled faintly of rain.

“Is that you, Bill?” she called out without looking up.

“Naw, Carmen, it’s just me,” her stepson Jeremy answered from the front of the house.

She glanced toward the young man coming through the kitchen. He paused at the counter separating the kitchen from the den to empty his lunch box and rinse his thermos.

“Oh, hi, Jere, you’re home early,” she said softly with a throaty purr. “I heard the front door and thought it might be your father.”

“Damn!” the boy exclaimed, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. “He called this morning while you were in the shower. Said he had to go up to Sacramento and wouldn’t be home tonight. Then, Bruiser showed up and started honking the horn and I had to go. I guess I forgot to leave you a note.”

“Sacramento? Again?” she questioned with a hint of a scowl.

“That’s what he said.”

“Did he tell you how long?”

“He wasn’t sure; couple of days probably, three tops.”

“Did he say where he was last night?” She forced herself to sound casual. It had taken most of the preceding three years to establish enough report with the boy to move him beyond referring to her as “Miss Carmen,” and she didn’t want to jeopardize the growing thaw by putting the boy in the middle of a possible ruckus with his father.

“Naw, he didn’t say,” Jeremy shrugged as he entered the den. He was wearing his work “uniform,” a white tank-top with “Bruiser’s Lawn and Pool Service” stenciled in red diagonally across the front, a pair of frayed khaki cargo shorts and hiking boots. Hours of mowing grass in the California sun had bronzed his skin almost black and lightened his already blonde hair to nearly white. She studied him surreptitiously, out of the corner of her eye, musing on the fact that the past year’s hard work had certainly gotten rid of that flabby softness and schoolboy pallor he’d had in high school. “Working probably,” he continued, “he used to do that a lot before…” His voice trailed off as he shot a guilty look toward his stepmother.

“Before I came along?” Carmen smiled wryly, finishing his sentence for him.

“I, I, I, didn’t mean it like that,” the boy stammered, turning slightly red.

“It’s okay, Jere. I understand,” she said soothingly. “Your dad works really hard so you and I can have nice things. It just gets lonely sometimes with him gone so much.”

“He’s home more now that he used to be,” the boy replied lamely.

“Speaking of ‘home,’ how come you’re home so early?” she asked.

“It’s raining down the valley, so Bruiser said we’d knock off for the afternoon and start early in the morning.”

“Rain?” she groaned. “It isn’t supposed to rain. I was planning to lay out this afternoon.” She tugged at the lapel of her cover-up to expose a glimpse of her bikini top as though to prove her intention.

“Go on out; you still got time. It’ll take the rain a couple of hours at least to get up here.”

He settled into his absent father’s favorite recliner, opening a can of beer that he had retrieved from the fridge on his way through the kitchen. Keeping beer in the house for a teenaged boy was one of several points on which she and Bill differed she had discovered in three years of marriage. Why not, she argued on the boy’s behalf, he’s old enough to buy it himself and since he’s working full time and then some, the only thing not allowing him an occasional beer or two would accomplish would be to force him to get it someplace else with all the risks that involves. In the end, she prevailed, but Bill’s agreement was half-hearted at best, so Jeremy reserved most of his beer consumption to the times when his father wasn’t at home.

“Can’t just yet,” she replied reloading her brush. “I still have three toes to go.”

“You care if I turn on the television?”

“Be my guest, just don’t make me watch any more ‘Ahhhnold.’ I’ve had all the exposure to him I can take. Honestly, I think your father’s in love with the guy. That’s probably why he had to run off to Sacramento all of a sudden.”

“Don’t worry, I can’t stand any more of any of them, either; I just wanna catch a few MTV videos.”

“Anything but Ahhhhnold.”

“Right,” he muttered, punching the channel number into the remote. “You know what Bruiser says about all that, don’tcha?” he continued while the TV warmed.

“What?” she answered skeptically, already beginning to feel slightly like the butt of a knock-knock joke. Political activism, she suspected was not high on the list of Bruiser Yardley’s priorities.

“He says, the state’s so fucked up now that Larry Flint’s the only one with enough of the right kind of experience to fix it.” He finished the sentence with a sip of beer, studying her over the rim of the can to see if his casual use of the “F” word would fluster her. It was a game he played from time to time, testing her equanimity with something outrageous or inappropriate.

Carmen didn’t so much as twitch a muscle but continued to apply polish with meticulous brush strokes. “Interesting political commentary,” she answered without looking up, “but I doubt that Bruiser’s astute enough to figure that out all by himself; he must have had help.”

Disappointed by his failure to elicit any protest, Jeremy turned his attention to the television and the video that was just beginning. He recognized it, of course, from the introduction credits and squirmed a little in anticipation. The music started and the boy was instantly transported into his own fantasy.

“Who’s that?” Carmen questioned a few scenes into the video.

“Fountains of Wayne,” the distracted response.

“Not the group, silly; the woman?”

“Stacey’s mom.”

“What’s her name; she’s an actress or something, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, Rachel Hunter, she’s a model,” Jeremy answered without turning his attention from the screen.

“Right, I knew she looked familiar,” Carmen muttered while wiggling her freshly painted toes to dry the polish.

The video progressed and the unfamiliar words began to jell in Carmen’s mind. Just about the point where Rachel’s character morphs into an exotic dancer doing a pole dance, she blurted out, “What’s this thing all about, Jere?”

“Stacey’s boyfriend’s got a thing for her mom,” he replied distantly, as though somewhat mesmerized himself by Rachel’s abundant cleavage.

“I see,” she said with a note of disapproval in her voice that Jeremy ignored.

The video wound down at about the time her toes dried. She glanced inquisitively toward Jeremy, who was draining the last drops of beer from his can and doing his best not to look in her direction.

“I imagine you run into lots of moms who look like that when you’re cleaning pools and mowing.”

“Not as many as you’d think,” he answered noncommittally.

“Really?” she said, arching an eyebrow skeptically. “I thought all of the mom’s at your graduation looked like models.” That was no exaggeration she recalled ruefully. She had dressed conservatively, thinking the occasion and her new husband’s maturity required it, and was stunned by the sea of décolletage and bare thighs exposed by micro-miniskirts that awaited them in the high school gym. She told Bill that in Cincinnati, women who dressed like that in public would be arrested for prostitution, but he just laughed and said that the mid-west was behind the times. She took that to heart and, to please him, the next day went out and bought the very thong she was wearing at the moment. That had been a miscalculation. It didn’t take her long to realize that in some departments her husband was further behind than everybody, and that knowing the right wine, wearing outrageously expensive clothes or having a taste for truffles was not evidence of a well-rounded sophistication. As soon as the bloom of initial excitement faded from the marriage, he informed her that the mouth was not an organ for sexual gratification, and, as for the vast majority of the various other body parts and orifices, no one in their right mind would kiss, lick or even touch one of them. Her therapist said he sounded like a sexually repressed adolescent, and, since Bill had vehemently denied he had a “problem,” improvement wasn’t in the prognosis.

“None of them look as good as you,” he replied, looking down and crushing his empty can in his fist.

“Why, Jeremy Bolds, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me in years,” she gushed.

“It’s the truth,” the boy mumbled while twisting the crushed beer can with both hands like he was wringing a chicken’s neck. The compliment had sort of slipped out unintentionally, and, like many spontaneous utterances, it told more of the speaker than of the subject. He blushed under his tan at the idea that she could now somehow feel the weight of his eyes on her.

“Does that mean you look at me like Stacey’s boyfriend was looking at her mom?” she cooed innocently, and, while he fumbled for a response, she leaned toward him, her full, rounded breasts dangling, capped with tiny swatches of bright orange clinging precariously to her nipples, and she extracted the twisted can from his grip.

“Ah, uh, no, ah, I guess, uh, I don’t know…” he stammered, blinking at the barely contained cleavage swaying enticingly an arm’s length away. Then, abruptly, she rose, turned and walked into the kitchen. He distantly heard the clink as the empty went into the trash compactor, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in a welter of confused thoughts.

Suddenly, she was back, materializing in front of him with a fresh, cold beer in her hand and her cover-up pulled modestly across her chest. She handed him the beer and leaned to kiss him on the cheek saying, “Here, you sweet boy, cool off with this. I’m going to the pool; come on out and join me if you want.”

He watched her walking away, moving with almost effortless, fluid grace through the open patio door like the dancer she once had been. Her sensuous curves were momentarily silhouetted against the bright October sky, and the boy stifled a gasp as the sunlight revealed her firmly rounded, nearly naked buttocks that swallowed the slender thread of her thong between toned cheeks and then flowed seamlessly into long, tantalizingly tapered legs. He stared as she unbuttoned her cover-up and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the ground. She stretched, lifting her face to the sun and letting its heat flow over her skin like warm honey. She bounced on her toes and thrust her hands into the sky like a runner warming up, and her breasts rose, straining at the restraining cups, and, beneath them, her belly, a flat, smooth, sculpted plain, ran on and on, league upon rippling league, before reaching the tiny triangle of cloth covering the secrets she kept hidden between her legs. He gulped his beer and tugged his shorts to make room for expansion, but, when he looked again, she was lying on a chaise hidden from view behind a large redwood planter.

Carmen was exhilarated. She felt young, fresh and alive for the first time in ages. Jeremy’s compliment, intentionally or not, had buoyed her spirit and her step, and she found herself feeling desirable again. The sun warmed her; the tiny patches of neon cloth covering her nipples and crotch soaking up rays like solar collectors and making the flesh beneath feel hot and tingly. Her hands, palms down, skittered across the taut slope of her tummy; fingertips grazed the edge of the nylon patch, and she toyed momentarily with the notion of touching herself there. She shielded her eyes with the crook of her arm and lay with her fingertips scant inches from her throbbing clitoris and daydreamed about nubile young boys with their insatiable hunger for female flesh and pent-up yearnings propelling them headlong toward the loss of innocence. She dozed and drifted in a gilded boat on opalescent, cum-colored seas through thickets of flesh-hued steeples, spires, and helmeted, unsheathed swords, and when she awoke with racing pulse and the fire of her own unquenchable desire flickering in her core, she thought the day long gone, but the sun had barely moved in the sky. She lay still as her senses awakened and in the quiet, she recognized the sound of running water coming from Jeremy’s open bathroom window. He must be in the shower, she thought as she rolled into a sitting position and tugged one of her patches back into position covering its assigned nipple. She waited impatiently for the shower to end, and busied herself by applying tanning oil to the fronts and backs of her legs. She covered her buttocks particularly well because there were areas of her cheeks that hadn’t seen much sun, and, when her fingers approached the tops of her thighs in the front, she even lifted the patch of cloth covering her and oiled the soft, sensitive skin under the edges of the triangle. About the time she finished and placed the bottle of oil on the table beside the chaise, the shower sound stopped.

“Jeremy?” she called out in a soft voice. Theirs was a modest yard, even by suburban California standards, so Jeremy’s bath was not far away and shouting wasn’t necessary.

“Yes, ma’am?” His voice wavered, sounding almost breathless, and she wondered for a moment if he had finished off the six-pack while she slept, but his face appeared in the bathroom window across the pool and he looked sober enough, although still wet from the shower.

“Can you come out here and help me for a sec?” She shrugged as if to apologize for being helpless.

“Sure, lemme grab a towel and I’ll be right out.” He sounded agreeable, if not eager.

She took a tube of lipstick from her beach bag and ran the tip across her lips a couple of times while she waited. She was in the process of returning the lipstick to the bag when Jeremy emerged from the den. He had put on a pair of white swim trunks and was carrying a towel, folded across his arm, in front of him as he approached her. His face was deep red and for a second she worried that he might have scalded himself in the shower.

“Honey,” she began apologetically, “I must be getting fat cause the straps on this top feel like they are cutting me in half, but for the life of me I can’t get it unfastened. Can you help me with it?”

“I can try, I guess,” he answered dubiously.

Nothing to it, really,” she reassured him while turning her back to him. “It works like any bra.”

“I’m not much good with bras.”

“How come, Jere? Girls not letting you practice?” she teased, glancing over her shoulder as he stepped closer. He had dropped his guard and lowered the towel when she turned away, so in the glance she glimpsed a lengthened heaviness in the front of his swimsuit. She smiled, speculating on what he had been doing in the shower, and her thoughts brought a blush to her cheeks.

“Girls don’t wear bras anymore, Carmen, or haven’t you heard.”

“Of course, you’re right. How damn yesterday can I be? I forget, we have a whole new generation of boys who are growing up without a clue about how to unfasten a girl’s bra.”

“What am I supposed to do here?” he asked, and she could feel the tips of his fingers on her skin.

She hesitated, trying to suppress an involuntary shiver, and then said, “There’s a little hook on the right that’s hooked into a loop on the left. Just hold the loop and lift the hook out.”

She felt his knuckles on her spine as his fingers tangled with the closure. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck and, suddenly, her thighs broke out in a rash of goosebumps. Her pulse quickened and she arched her back to give him some slack in the straps.

He struggled for a moment longer, then sighed, “There, it’s loose,” and she immediately felt the freed straps fall to her sides. She caught the tiny cups with her forearm and held them against her breasts, covering herself, as she turned around to face the boy.

“Whew,” she gasped when they were face to face, “thanks, Jere. That feels better already.”

In his struggles with her clasp, the towel had slipped from his arm and was lying, forgotten, on the ground between them. She looked down and her gaze fixed on the bulge that was pushing the front of his suit toward her. Brazenly, she stared at him, heedless of any possible discomfort he might be experiencing, and the pink tip of her tongue began a languid, suggestive sweep of her freshly reddened lips.

The boy staggered a half-step back and sort of pushed his hips backward in an attempt to lower the pole in the tent, so to speak, and then he bent to pick up the towel. He shook out the towel and began mopping his face with one end while the other swayed back and forth in front of his bulge. She couldn’t tell for certain if it was water from the shower or sweat he was mopping.

“That’s okay, Carmen,” he mumbled and started to turn.

“Wait a minute,” she said with that soft purr of hers. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” He had the typical teenager’s disdain for questions.

“First, let me borrow your towel for a second, would you? I forgot to bring one and I’ve got oil all over my hands.”

He blushed beet red and handed over the towel, surrendering the refuge of his modesty, and, as she took it from him, Carmen batted her eyes disarmingly and asked innocently, “In the video? You remember?


“What was the kid doing in the end when Stacey walked in on him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“I don’t, really.”

“How many times have you seen it?”

“I don’t know, five, six, ten, maybe.”

“I think you know and are just too embarrassed to tell me.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Then, why won’t you tell me what the kid was doin?”

“Cause, you can’t tell for sure.”

“What’s your best guess?”

“Awww, hell,” he sputtered.


“Foolin around, I guess.”

“What, exactly, does that mean; ‘foolin around?’”

“You know, messin with himself.”

“Do you mean ‘masturbating?’ Like, ‘jacking off?’”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, you think the kid was watching Stacey’s mom and jacking off?”

“Yeah. He had the hots for her pretty bad.”

“I can understand why, can’t you; she’s a very beautiful woman.”


“I asked you earlier and you said you looked at me like that sometimes.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“It’s the truth, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess, sometimes.”

Carmen took a deep breath, almost as though preparing herself for a dive into icy water, and then, almost too quietly, she asked, “Do you masturbate when you watch me, Jeremy?”

“Oh, jeez, Carmen!” the boy gasped, and she could almost feel the heat as crimson rushed into his face.

“Well, do you?” she asked gently with a beatific smile. “Do you watch me out here at the pool in my bathing suit and jack off?”

“Carmen!” he protested, unable to answer.

“Where’s the trust, Jere?” she asked. Her voice quavered and she sounded wounded. “I thought we were going to trust each other.”

“Dad would kill me, Carmen.”

“He’s in Sacramento, remember? On his business. This is our business; just between you and me.”

“You’re not going to tell him?”

“Of course not, Jere. Why would I tell him?”

“Cause, he’s your husband, and I’m just a kid.”

“Well,” she laughed softly as she let her eyes drop to his bulging crotch, “you aren’t much of a kid any more. And, besides,” she continued, closing the space between them with a half-step and raising her hands to cradle his face in her palms, “I love you, Jeremy Bolds, and I would never, never, never do anything that would hurt you.”

“Car…” the boy gasped, choking on her name, overcome by her sweetness and the fact that her bikini top was dangling uselessly from her arms and her gorgeous, bare breasts were almost grazing his chest.

“You trust me, don’t you?” she whispered, holding his face in her hands and looking deeply into his blinking, astonished eyes.

“Yes, yes, oh God, yes.”

“Then tell me the truth,” she insisted, tightening her grip for effect.

“I do, I do,” he blurted, shutting his eyes in shame.

“Do what?” she prodded.

“Jack off. I watch you and jack off.”

“Is that what you were doing just now? In your bathroom with the water running?”


“Did you finish?”

“No, you called me; I didn’t have time.”

“Does my body excite you, Jeremy?” she asked pointedly while letting her top slip off her arms. Her breasts, nude, beautifully sculpted globes, pointed their puckered, ruby nipples at his chest.

She took a small step closer; their toes were nearly touching.

“Oh, God, yes,” he moaned almost painfully.

“Are you still excited, Jeremy?” It was a husky whisper and her eyes lit with unconcealed desire as she spoke the words. The answer, of course, was blatantly pointing at her just a scant few inches from her nearly bare crotch.

“Carmen! Don’t, please,” he gasped with a shriek. “My dad’s going to kill us both.”

“You trust me, remember? He’s in Sacramento and this is just between you and me.”

“Carmen?” he wailed in disbelief, unable to respond.

“You are still hard, aren’t you, Jere?” Her eyebrows lifted expectantly as she spoke, and she thrust her hips toward him till her nearly naked mons just barely brushed the cloth covered tip of his erection.

“Oh God,” the boy gurgled.

“Is your penis erect for me, Jere?” she whispered, rubbing herself against him sensuously.

“No, no,” he protested weakly.

“No?” She smiled with amusement. Her hand drifted from his chin, her fingertips tracing lines of tingling fire down his chest toward his belly. “I don’t think I believe you, Jere.”

“Ohhhhh,” he gurgled in ineffectual denial.

“I think your cock is hard as a rock, honey.” And, with that, her hand found him, and her fingers brazenly fondled him through the thin fabric of his trunks. She watched his face as emotions danced across his features like images projected onto a screen. His shoulders sagged, his mouth dropped open in a gape of astonishment, and his eyes bulged as he blinked and gulped.

“See, I was right, baby,” she cooed happily. Her fingers encircled him, squeezing, measuring, and then began a slow, rhythmic movement.

The boy gurgled, his words of protest dying in his throat in a tangle of discordant vowels and consonants. His arms dangled by his sides; his hands flapped uselessly. His eyes, drawn to the searing sensation of her touch, stared as the image of her tiny fingers stroking the bulge in his trunks burned into his brain. His prick was rigid as a piece of rolled steel, and he could feel the hot thrush of embarrassed desire spreading from his loins up his trunk to his face.

“Do you like my breasts,” she purred while moving her hand expertly on his prick. Her bare breasts swayed enticingly with the movement of her hand, and her darkened, congested nipples, described little arcs in the thin space between their bodies.

His eyes flitted to her breasts, then to her face, his eyelids fluttering as she lifted his hand and placed it on her breast. He felt the firm texture of her bosom under his fingertips and the dense, rubbery tissue of her nipple pressing against his palm and urgency of his excitement made him dizzy.

“Rub them, Jere,” she said, guiding him past his innocence. “My nipples are so sensitive.” She squeezed his prick with her fingers to encourage him.

The boy complied, rolling her nipple like an oversized raisin between thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and tilted her head as though overcome by rapture, and then she whispered, “Do both of them like that. Use both hands.”

Jeremy complied and was shocked at the intensity of her response. Little guttural grunting sounds came from her throat, and her body began to undulate with a rhythm that matched the silent cadence of his massage. He tugged her nipples, stretching her flesh, and she arched her back offering herself to his fingers.

“Hmmmm,” she hissed as he tugged her nipples, elongating her pulsating, exquisitely sensitive flesh like pulled taffy, “you do that good,” and to prove her approval, she stroked him faster.

“Do you like having your cock rubbed, baby?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

“Do my fingers feel good?”

“Oh, Carmen.”

“They called me the ‘Beat-off Queen’ in high school, baby; do you know why?”

It was a whispered confidence, uttered as her hand snaked up the loose leg of his trunks to fondle him through the mesh lining.


“Cause, I could jack the boys off better than any of the other girls. All the boys tried to get me to go out with them cause I knew how to make them feel good.”

“Carmen!” he gasped as the heat of her palm scorched him through the netting.

“I think you want me to make you feel good, don’t you?” she teased, sliding her hand up his length to cover the swollen head of his prick.

“Oh, Carmen,” he gushed as the air rushed from his lungs.

“Do you want your step-mother to make your cock feel good, Jere?”

Step-mother, oh, God, he winced, but the very illicitness the term suggested honed his passion like a razor on a strop. “Oh, yes,” the boy yelped. The reply came bubbling up from his subconscious so quickly that he didn’t realize he had spoken until she released him and withdrew her hand from his trunks.

“Okay, then,” she panted excitedly. “Take off your suit.”

“Carmen?” he blinked uncertainly. His fingers fumbled with the drawstring to loosen the knot.

“Let me help you,” she said eagerly, and, dropping to one knee, she began tugging his suit down.

The trunks grudgingly yielded their grip on the boy’s damp skin. She struggled, working them down little by little, slowly exposing the boy’s stark white belly and then the surprisingly sparse dusting of pubic hair just above his penis. The waistband snagged his prick, bending it down. She tugged hungrily, and the trunks slipped down his thighs, revealing his thick, richly-veined shaft. The length of him surprised and thrilled her, and she impatiently snatched the trunks to his ankles to expose him entirely. His prick sprang up when the waistband slipped past, and, as she leaned toward him to push his trunks to the ground, his dick brushed her cheek. She caught him with her hand and pressed him to her face for a moment, and then turned and pressed her lips against him to savor the sensation of his virgin prick-flesh on her eager lips. She could feel his pulse, the trip-hammer beat of his heart, on her lips, and, welling up from the fiery pit of her passion, an almost unbearable urge to take him in her mouth and suck him to completion then and there. She mastered that urge because she had other ideas.

She struggled to her feet and faced him. Inches separated them. Her face glowed, lit from within by frustrated passion. A smeared droplet of precum stained her cheek. She was breathing with short, quick gulps, and her breasts, reddened by the boy’s eager massage, heaved. She grasped his hands in hers and placed them on her hips.

“Take my thong off,” she instructed the awestruck boy.

Obediently, he knelt, oblivious to the sharp aggregate punishing his knees. He barely pulled the string and her thong fell away, exposing her beauty and the neatly trimmed, luxuriant thicket of hair at her crotch.

“Stay there,” she told him when he started to rise, and, restraining him by putting her hands on his shoulders, she spread her legs.

“Have you ever seen a woman’s pussy, Jeremy?” she asked gently.

He shook his head in partially untruthful denial, because he had seen plenty in magazines and in Bruiser’s X-rated videos, but, of course, never one in the flesh.

“Look at my pussy, Jeremy. Do you like it?”

“Oh God, yes. You’re beautiful,” he whispered in heartfelt adoration. He stared at her, lips full, thick, slightly separated, revealing glimpses of bright pink flesh behind her fleshy folds.

“Do you know how to tell if a woman is excited and ready to fuck, Jeremy?”

The boy shivered in his ignorance and rocked back and forth on his knees.

“Her pussy gets real wet and slippery, and she swells up inside.”

The boy’s eyes were riveted to her slit hoping to catch a glimpse of the phenomenon she had described.

“Playing with your cock made my pussy sooooo wet.”

The boy rocked closer trying to confirm her report.

“You can’t see it, you sweetheart, you can only feel it. Touch my pussy. Put your fingers inside and feel me. I want you to see how wet I am for you.”

He lifted his hand, stroking her inner thigh along the way, and his fingertips tentatively brushed her lips. She sighed and opened her legs for him. She shut her eyes and felt his inquisitive, inexperienced fingers sliding along her slit seeking an entrance.

“Yessss,” she gasped, when his fingers managed to separate her lips and slipped inside. “Feel the wet, baby,” she purred as his fingers slithered along the length of her slit.

The boy groped her, and his untutored fumbling was the spark that ignited the raging conflagration of her lust.

“Here, let me show you,” she puffed, when her vaginal opening proved too elusive for him to find.

Her hand covered his between her legs, and her fingers guided him through the veil of her slippery lips to her opening. With his fingers poised to enter her, she hesitated at the brink of the precipice, leaning out with the wind in her face like Kate Winslet on the bow of the Titanic, savoring the anticipation, but almost instantly her patience yielded to passion, and she thrust his finger deep into her pussy.

He gasped in bewildered astonishment as his finger slid easily into her depths, and he felt the tight grip of her slippery flesh engulf him. She pushed him out and tugged him back, instructing him in the motions that pleasured her, and, gradually, she turned him loose to stroke her on his own.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” she burbled eagerly as the boy’s fingers sawed in and out of her throbbing vagina. The hot cauldron in her belly boiled and brewed an endless flood of lanolin oil that drenched her pussy, and she knew she was wet, wetter than she had ever been. She overflowed and her slippery effluent dripped from her lips, matting her pussy hair and coating the soft skin of her thighs.

“Oh, God, oh, God, you’re finger-fucking me so good, baby,” she murmured allowing herself another moment of selfish indulgence to enjoy the sensations of the boy’s fingers probing her body.

Then, she gently extracted his finger and pulled him to his feet. Before he could protest, she pushed him toward the chaise and told him to lie on his back. He obeyed, lying down with his hands clutching the sides of the chaise and his cock flopped on his belly. She stood beside the chaise and let his lust-crazed eyes explore her nudity, while she squirted oil into her cupped hand. She dropped to her knees and raised his prick. She drizzled the warmed oil onto the boy’s cock, watching it run from the head down the shaft, leaving glistening trails of lubricant weaving among the bulging veins. Her oily palm caressed his shaft, then her fingers coiled around him and greased him. She palmed his glans and teased his cum hole with a fingertip. He moaned and lifted his hips, thrusting his cock toward the enticement of her oily caresses, and, while his hips hovered above the chaise, she slipped her hand between his legs to oil his balls. She stroked lower and found the crease between his ass cheeks. She wormed her slippery finger into the crevice. The boy groaned and questioned her with a look of dismay when she pushed her finger into the tight ring of his anus. He jerked his hips to evade the penetrating finger and resisted her by clenching his butt cheeks tightly together. She stroked his cock, jacking him off with her circling fingers slipping lightly up and down the well-oiled shaft, and he relaxed some. She leaned toward his prick and licked the tip, and heard the boy’s gasp of delight as her finger slid deeply into his rectum. She fingerfucked his asshole while licking his cock and jacking him off until his squirmy moans signaled it was time for her to stop.

She stood, and, kneeling on the chaise beside him, straddled the boy. She settled on him, wiggling her hips till her pussy caught his rigid dick and pressed it between their bodies. She leaned forward, putting her hands on his shoulders, letting her breasts dangle in front of his face.

“Play with my breasts,” she cooed, lifting her hips some and slipping her hand between their bodies to grasp his prick.

He reached for her, hands closing on her swaying globes, as she guided the head of his prick into her wet slit. She rubbed herself with his prick, stroking her swollen clit with the exquisite softness of his glans and thrilled to the little spurts of precum her caresses produced.

“Suck them,” she said with a note of pleading in her voice. Her hand twitched frantically, strumming the taut stalk of her clit with his cock.

The boy complied, sucking her nipples into the hot cavern of his mouth, nursing her breasts like a hungry child, and she could feel the walls of her vagina contracting with each suck. He suckled and grunted, but, just as she lifted herself to position his prick to enter her, he stopped.

“Oh, Carmen?” he gulped, and she detected a wistfulness in his voice.

“Yes, baby?” she responded, pausing; his cock was poised at her opening.

“Carmen, I, ah, ah,” he stammered, blushing.

Fear, she surmised, and her heart melted with compassion for his innocence. “Don’t be afraid, Jere, I’ll show you,” she whispered reassuringly with all the love any mother could feel.

“It’s not that,” he protested, and it seemed as though the beat of his pulse in his prick quickened.

“What is it, then, baby?” Her hand held him as she settled onto his prick, letting the head slip between her fleshy pussy lips.

“Can I put it between your cheeks? Just for a minute. Just to see what it feels like.”

The boy had either summoned extraordinary courage or been overcome by uncontrollable desire to utter such an outrageous request, but the thought of cheeks, her cheeks, clenching his cock had consumed his every waking thought for months and he couldn’t resist that compulsion. It had begun in the spring on a day he should have been in school. Instead, he had played hookey and was lying on his bed in his boxers reading Hustler magazines when he heard her come home. He had hidden beside his bed while she walked to her bedroom at the end of the hallway they shared, and then he heard running water filling the tub in her bath. He lay in the crevice between his bed and the wall for the longest, giving her time to bathe, and, when he thought the coast was clear, he crept out and snuck down the hall toward her room. Her door was ajar and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising in anticipation at the prospect of catching a glimpse of her in her underwear or maybe naked. He had gotten lucky once or twice in the past, getting to see her naked, but it had scared him shitless to do it. This time, the door was cracked open and loomed at the end of the hall like the opening to a giant womb, and he approached on tiptoe, irresistibly drawn, with his heart in his throat. At first, because the room was dark, he didn’t see her and thought she was still in the bathroom, but when his eyes adjusted, he gasped and nearly fell against the door. Her image was reflected toward him by mirrors on the ceiling and the wall. His gorgeous step-mother was lying naked on the king-sized bed with her legs spread wide open. Her eyes were closed, and her pink tongue was running restlessly over her lips. She was twisting a nipple with one hand. Her pussy hair was wet and matted, her lips puffy, swollen looking, pouting and open, revealing a slash of wet crimson. Dim light glinted off her moist inner thighs. He groaned and thrust his hand into his underpants, and locked his fingers onto his prick. He began to jack off, staring at her gaping pussy, until he noticed the movement of her hand reaching for something. Her hand came into view holding a large, life-like rubber cock above her face. He stopped breathing for a minute and slumped against the door jam in a state of near collapse, when she took the dildo into her mouth and down her throat. Then, while he frantically stroked his meat, she put the head of that cock between her asscheeks and squirmed it around till the head was pressing against her asshole. His eyes were popping out of his head; he couldn’t think or breathe. All he could do was jack off and watch her slowly push that enormous, fat prick up her ass. As soon as she had shoved it all the way in, so that there was barely enough left outside her butthole to hold on to, she pulled it all the way out and then shoved it back. He could hear her gasping and moaning like it was the most wonderful thing she had ever done, and it amazed him to see that, when she pulled the thing out, her asshole stayed open, a huge hole like a gaping mouth with no lips. He jacked off faster, feeling the cum building up in his dick, and she speeded up too matching him stroke for stroke. Her hand was a blur, sliding that fat cock in and out of her ass almost faster than his eyes could follow, and she started huffing and puffing, like the little engine that could, with quick little gasps. She slipped a hand down her belly and onto her pussy. Her fingers spread her lips and held them open while she rubbed her clit. He was there, his climax hanging by a thread, the familiar tingling rush electrifying his kneecaps, when he heard her loudly chanting, “Yes, yes, fuck my ass, oh, God, yes, fuck my ass deep.” With that, his cum burst from the end of his prick in a flood. Streams of thick, white cum shot across the carpet and spattered the bedroom door he was crouching behind. His hand jerked faster and his dick became a cum fountain, squirting his juice like he never imagined possible, and distantly, through the haze of his orgasm, he heard her groan, “Oh, God, I’m cumming.” He stuffed his cock into his shorts and slunk down the hall to his room, too frightened of discovery to clean up the mess he had made. That night, at supper, he nearly had a heart attack when she turned to his dad and said, “Honey, there are some stains on the carpet outside our bedroom. I don’t know how they got there, but I think we better call somebody to come up and shampoo the carpet.” She had looked at him kinda funny at the time with just the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth, but if she suspected anything, she never let on. As for Jere, he carried those images like a stain on his brain and whenever he got an erection, there was nothing he could do to keep his mind from returning to that afternoon when he watched his step-mom fuck herself in the ass with that big rubber cock.

“Oh, Jere,” she gulped, and he felt a shiver of excitement shake her breasts. Her hand was positioning him as she spoke. “You want to put your prick between my ass cheeks?”

“Carmen,” he nodded, feeling his prick already nuzzling into the deep cleavage of his step-mother’s ass, guided unerringly by her eager, but steady, hand.

“Ooooh, baby, your cock feels good back there.” She was moving his dick about in her crack, swabbing her puckered ring with the oily head.

The boy was going wild under her expert manipulation. The cum-weeping eye of his dick was rubbing the tiny ridges and valleys of her anus, and the reality of the sensation transcended the anything his imagination had produced.

“You want to put your cock in my ass and fuck me, don’t you, baby?” No woman’s intuition at work here; the boy’s hips were floating above the chaise, lifting her body into the air, his prick poised like a sword, ready to sheath itself to the hilt in her rectum.

“You wanna fuck your momma’s ass,” she gasped, lowering herself onto his stiff spike.

“Oh, Jesus, yes,” the boy nearly screamed. His hands circled her narrow waist, and he yanked her hips down, trying to complete her impalement.

“Ohhhh,” she winced. “Slow down a little. Your cock’s too big; you gotta give a girl a chance to adjust.” She wiggled her ass, her hand repositioning his cock, and settled on him tentatively.

Mortified by his lack of thoughtfulness, the boy froze, his back arched in a permanent bow with his prick and his step-mother at the apex.

“Ugh,” she grunted, biting her lower lip. She relaxed her thighs, letting more of her weight come to bear on the prick trying to enter her bowels. Her hand was thrust between their bodies, her fingers frantically stroking his cock, spreading oil along the length. Her finger pressed her ass where they touched, and circling, she re-oiled the tip of his prick.

“Oooo, baby, help me get it in,” she wailed when her weight alone was insufficient.

Instinctively, his hands reached for her hips and circled her waist. He pulled her down, lifting his hips to meet force with force and felt the ring of her anus give way. The head of his cock plowed into his step-mother’s tight rectum, and he looked at her face for reaction.

Her eyes popped wide; her mouth gaped. She shook her head back and forth, tossing her curls, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Her face was a lust-contorted mask that the inexperienced boy could not read.

“Ohhhhh,” she exhaled as he entered.

“Am I hurting you?” he fretted, loosening his grip on her hips. A frown of indecision clouded his face.

“Oh, God, no, Jere,” she gushed, wobbling her hips in an effort to remain balanced. “Don’t stop, now.”

He had done his part, helping her past the initial entry, and she resumed control. Her hips wriggled, rising and falling in tiny jerks, and she began swallowing his cock with her ass. She felt the head boring into her bowels and trembled with excitement. She took the head and the narrower slippery shoulders followed easily. Toward the base, his cock thickened again, stretching her hole unbearably, so she stopped her descent, hovering above him with half his dick up her butt, and panted. Her brow furrowed as she tried to focus her mind and concentrate on relaxing her sphincter. The walls of her rectum collapsed around the boy’s prick, seizing him with a thousand rippling muscles, and he gurgled his delight in the back of his throat. She rocked back and forth on her hands and knees, fucking herself slowly on the obscenely protruding prick and gradually forced her hole to widen. She took him deeper with each thrust, and it felt like his cockhead was boring into her throat.

“Jesus Christ, you’re huge,” she gulped triumphantly, when finally she felt his thighs brush her cheeks and knew the end was near.

“Oh, Carmen.” Her name burst from his lips in a gush of ecstasy. His thumbs pressed her belly, fingers splayed on her butt cheeks.

“Baby,” she begged heatedly, “spread my cheeks with your fingers. Open my ass up so I can get all of you in me.”

The boy could barely believe his ears, but his fingers dipped into her crease along side the exposed stump of his prick and pulled her cheeks apart.

“Oh, shit, yes,” she hissed, sinking another delicious inch onto the boy’s prick.

He spread her ass and felt her swallow him completely. His hands, cupped, held her globes like melons as she flattened them against his thighs. Her pussy juice slimed his belly, where she rubbed herself on him.

“Baby,” she sighed, as she paused to catch her breath and to allow her body to accommodate the prick imbedded in her over-stuffed rectum. She put her head on his shoulder, nuzzling her lips against his ear and whispered, “Your cock is so big and feels so good in my ass. I can’t believe I took all of it. Touch my asshole, baby, where your dick’s going in me.”

His pulse was a pounding roar in his head and a throbbing ache in his cock. He felt like he was floating, joined to this beautiful woman in a dream that defied reality, and his fingers probed their junction. Fingertips gingerly skirted her hole, tracing the obscenely stretched ring that encircled his prick like a band of iron, dancing over the little ridge of flesh marking the boundary between ass and pussy, and he marveled at her unabashed submission. Her tiny ring was stretched like the mouth of a Mason jar that swallowed his cock and clung to the base.

“Jesus,” he exclaimed, as she lifted her hips, and he felt his cock slipping past his fingertips.

“Feel good, baby?” she purred, stopping the rise of her hips with just the tip of his prick still inside her.

“Hell, yes.”

“Carmen’s gonna fuck you good, and make you fill up her ass with cum.” She was pushing back as she spoke, driving his prick deep in her ass, and her promise was nearly fulfilled with that single stroke.

“Arrrrgh,” he gurgled, nearly strangling. His fingers clawed at her hole in a useless attempt to widen her opening. At that moment, his blood and his cum were reaching the boiling point, and he would have crawled up her ass head first if given the chance.

“You’re about to cum, aren’t you, baby?” She was rocking faster and wiggling her hips from side to side as she fucked his prick with her asshole.

“Unhuh,” he grunted. There was a dazed, far-away look in his eyes, and his prick jerked with little spasms inside her.

“Cum, baby. Cum for Carmen. Let me feel your cock squirt cum in my ass.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” he wailed, clawing her cheeks in his urgency.

She lifted her hips till just the head remained in her ass and looked between them at the bridge of pulsating flesh connecting their bodies. Her rectal muscles kneaded his dick head with an unimaginably erotic massage.

“Jack off for me, baby; just like Stacey’s boyfiend. Let me see you jack off with your dick up my ass.”

The boy’s hand reached for his prick and gripped the greasy shaft. He pumped it once and then again, and she began fucking the head of his cock with short little strokes while he jacked off.

“Carmen!” he gasped, his hand smacking her ass cheeks on the upstroke.

“Cum, baby. I want to feel you shoot.” She whispered encouragement to the boy. He had orgasm written all over his lust-anguished features, and she could feel the throb of impending climax in his prick.

“Oh, Carmen,” he shouted in a wail of ecstasy as the dam burst, and his cum began to spurt into his step-mother’s hot, dick-clenching rectum.

“Yes, yes, my darling, I feel it; I feel you cuming. Squirt your love juice up my ass and fill me with it. I want it running down my legs when you’re done.”

The boy’s cum ran in a nearly unbroken stream, like water from an open spigot. He had never been so excited, so aroused, so turned-on by anything, and his excitement transformed his climax into a torrent of sperm. Instinctively, he reached for Carmen’s breast, kneading her flesh with one hand while jacking off with the other, and the tightly gripping walls of her rectum were flooded with cum.

“Ooooooo, Jere, you cum sooooo good,” Carmen purred, lifting her ass off the boy’s prick to allow her to see the last few, dwindling spurts arc into the empty space between their bodies.

“Oh, Jesus,” the boy sighed with a final shiver of ecstasy. Cum was dribbling down his fingers, and a couple of long stringy gobs were dangling from Carmen’s gaping asshole. He gazed at her, almost unable to comprehend his good fortune, with all of the adoration a boy feels for the woman who relieves him of his virginity.

Her heart melted, and she leaned down to kiss him full on the lips, with her mouth open and her tongue writhing. He kissed her back, or tried to, and his awkwardness served to underscore his innocence and made her love him all the more. Their lips pressed together, tongues intertwining, and he took her lead, trying to replicate her thrusts and parries. He learned quickly and in seconds they were kissing like long-time lovers.

Finally, she broke away, gulping for air and she gently stroked his hair. “You liked that didn’t you?”

“Oh my God, yes, Carmen.” The lights of love blazed in his eyes.

“Jacking off and cumming with your dick up my ass felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

“Ca, Ca, Carmen,” he stammered in an effort to express himself, “I never, uh, ah…”

“I know, baby. I know,” she said in that gentle tone mothers use to soothe their sons, and she shushed him with a finger pressed to his lips.

She dismounted the boy and picked up his towel. Brazenly, she stood with one foot on the chaise and mopped the cum seeping between her legs, and then she sat beside him and began cleaning his shrinking cock. She wrapped him in soft terrycloth, then massaged his dick through the towel.

“Shooting your cum in my ass felt a lot better than shooting it on the carpet outside my bedroom, I guess.” She gave him a wicked, knowing smile and maintained the pressure of her hand on his cock.

“Oh, Jesus, Carmen.” he gasped, appalled, jerking to a half-sitting position. “You knew?”

“Of course, I knew, baby. I knew you were watching and jacking off, and I knew it was your cum all over the door and the carpet. I tried to let you know at dinner that night. I wanted you to know it was okay, that I didn’t mind at all. I kept thinking you would say something about it, but you never did.”

“I was afraid you would be mad; maybe tell dad.”

“You shouldn’t have worried. If you had said something, anything, I would have come to your room after Bill went to sleep and let you fuck my ass that night or any other night. I would have let you do anything you want.”

“I feel like such a goddam idiot.” The boy might have felt foolish, but his dick, having a mind of its own, was beginning to show signs of renewed life beneath the towel.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she giggled, squeezing his resurgent cock. “It’s not easy working things like that out, and I probably didn’t do a very good job of letting you know how I felt about it.”

“I wish I had said something. I wanted you so bad I couldn’t sleep for days.”

“I wanted you too, Jeremy, but, after that, there just never seemed to be a good time to climb that wall.”

“But, you did today.”

“Yeah, I sure did,” she grinned.

“So, is that the end of it?” An anguished look of disappointment flickered across his face.

“Of course not, you silly boy, it’s just the beginning. You can have me any time you want, just so long as I can have you whenever I want.”

“Oh God, don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not teasing; I mean it. When ever, where ever, what ever; do you understand?”

“I, I, I think so,” the boy responded, nodding in disbelief.

“Good,” she said, smiling with satisfaction. “Now, I want you to do exactly as I say. Understand? This is a test.”

“Yeah, okay,” the boy nodded in agreement, but she had already turned and started walking away.

“Well, come on,” she said, looking back at him over her shoulder and crooking a finger in his direction.

He jumped up and followed his step-mother to the far end of the pool. Her asscheeks were reddened and streaked with his fingerprints, and he could see gobs of his cum oozing from her crease. He was about to ask where she was leading him, but then, she reached the diving board and sat down on the end with her back to the pool. She folded his towel and dropped it on the aggregate between her legs. Then, she leaned back with her hands behind her, holding the board for support and spread her legs.

“Kneel between my legs, baby.”

“Sure, Carmen,” he replied, quickly complying with her instruction.

“Good boy,” she smiled, and she lifted her legs, putting them on his shoulders. She lifted her hips till her pussy was level with his face. She tugged him with her heels and the scent of her filled him. “Kiss my pussy,” she hissed hungrily, and the space between his lips and hers shrank.

His hands reached up to cup her cheeks, helping her support her weight, and he held her to his mouth like a slice of ripe melon. This request he knew how to fulfill. Bruiser had explained what the videos left obscure, and he was armed to the teeth with untested knowledge. He brushed her lips with his. Her heat from her seared his cheeks; the musky scent of her arousal seared his nostrils. She ground her hips, pressing her pussy lips hard against his mouth, and the taste of her blossomed on his lips. He licked her with his tongue, and she gasped, “Oh, God, yes, do that.” She lowered her back to the board, freeing her hands to let her fingers run wild in his hair. She coiled his hair around her fingers and yanked his face into her crotch, moaning, “Yes, lick me, lick my cunt, lover.”

He licked at her slit, and she directed him with pulls and yanks and yelps of pleasure, and his face was coated with the sweet oil of her essence. Her fleshy lips swelled, plumped with passion, and he probed her fattened folds with the tip of his tongue. Restlessly, she writhed under his touch, her hips bouncing on the board whenever he touched a tender spot.

“Higher,” she wailed, tugging his ear to direct him and plunging one hand under his face to splay open her pussy lips.

He lapped her cunt with the flat of his tongue, licking her trough till his tongue tripped on a fleshy protuberance that stuck out between her fingers.

“Oh, God, yes, lick my clit,” she squealed with a jerk of her hips when his tongue found her rubbery stalk.

He licked her there again and felt the immediate shiver of a response.

“Oh, Jesus, suck it, baby; suck it and make me cum.”

Eagerly, his lips closed on her clit in a tightening oval. It felt like the tip of a tiny finger between his lips, and he lavished her with a sweep of his tongue. She gagged and locked her heels behind his head, pinioning his face to her crotch. He began to gently suck, just a soft suction of lips and tongue like an infant’s first tentative attempts to suckle, and her back arched with sensuous pleasure.

“Oooo, oooo, oooo,” she whimpered as he licked her core within the warm, moist suction of his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” she moaned deliriously. She collapsed onto the board as the first, firey threads of orgasm ignited in her pussy.

Jeremy sucked harder, feeling her clit lengthening, swelling, and, intuitively, he thrust two fingers into her asshole.

“Oh, baby, where’s you learn to do that? Oh, God, never mind, don’t tell me; I don’t want to know. Deeper, finger-fuck my ass deeper. Oh, God, I wish it was your cock in my ass; Jesus, I want my dildo, baby. God, your mouth sucking my clit and your fingers fucking my ass, oh God, oh God, oh God,” she babbled almost incoherently as the boy’s tongue licked reason from her mind.

Convulsions racked her body, shaking her from head to toe, and her pussy, pressed tight against his face, seemed to vibrate as he sucked her. Her juices poured from her pussy and joined the cum draining from her ass as he finger-fucked her butt.

“Baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” she sobbed and she fell back open, violate and exposed while the boy brought her beyond the sharp ridge of her passion to tranquility.

She lay on her back, breasts and belly heaving, and tried to catch her breath and for a moment Jeremy thought he might have done her harm, but, then she rose, propping herself on her elbows and looked at his dripping face in amazement.

“Now, aren’t you a pleasant surprise for your step-mother,” she smiled smugly, smearing her pussy juice around his mouth with the tip of her finger while licking her own lips.

“Did I pass the test, then?”

“You got an “A” on that part, baby, but the test ain’t over by a long shot.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I want more of this,” she said with her voice thick with lust while reaching for his new erection with both hands. Then, she stood, pulling him to his feet by the cock and when he was standing she kissed him, saying, “Come on, Jere, hurry, we’ve only got three days till your dad comes home and there’s about a million more questions on that test for ya to answer.”

Keys: stepmom voyeur incest family xxx

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