If you’re from New York, then I bet you’re going to roll your eyes right now. Because you’re gonna ask yourself why I’m not pulling up to Gracie Mansion, where the Mayor of the City traditionally lives.
Well, I got news for you. My dad is so fucking wealthy that he made it a campaign pledge to not move in. Instead, he brought the fucking mansion staff to his own townhouse - which is still located in the Upper East Side in Yorkville.
Yeah, that’s the kind of asshole my Dad is.
Look…I’m sorry if I sound fucking pissy, okay? You don’t know what its like having to come back with my tail tucked behind my legs. Back to a man who never fucking cared about me in my entire fucking life.
I almost wonder whether I’d want no one to be home.
Luckily, the sounds of footsteps on the other side of the door reach me and the door swings open a few seconds after.
“Lance, right?” a beautiful woman asks me, politely smiling. She looks radiant, in a pair of skinny jeans and a blue silk blouse that’s tucked in. She’s roughly five feet and seven inches, a slender beauty, but she has the most toned legs I have ever seen. They lead up to a sumptuous looking heart-shaped ass that’s framed exquisitely in her jeans and a small tapered waist. Her slender and flat tummy yields the most impressive set of tits that I have ever beheld; these giant breasts are struggling against her blouse and are easily D cups. They don’t sag, and don’t detract from her figure. Even her neck is elegant, long, and smooth. She has a cute face with a pair of luscious lips, slutty eyes, and hair that comes to her shoulders. In two short words: fucking beautiful.
“Yeah… That’s me,” I manage to say rather dumbfounded. “Jocelyn?” I ask, feeling like a complete fucking idiot now that she’s in front of me: I never even bothered to look at a photo of her before coming back home. To be honest, I didn’t do it because… Well, because I didn’t expect my stepmother to be this fucking hot. I just knew based on what my Dad cared about that it was probably some political fake marriage. I knew her name was Jocelyn, and that she was a thirty-something woman from New York, but I had no idea that she looked like a fucking goddess.
“Yes, that’s me,” she replies in that polite tone, smiling gently. I extend her my hand, trying to be as polite as her, but she waves my hand away. Leaning into me, she brushes her lips against my cheeks, laying a simple kiss there. The moment her lips touch my skin I feel my cock twitching, and I have to focus really hard to not pop a boner right here and now. That’d be fucking rich, greeting my stepmother with a boner.
“We’re family,” she simply says, taking my backpack and stepping aside so that I can get in.
“We are,” I repeat after, walking into the hallway and trying hard not to stare at her cleavage. Jesus Christ, how the hell did my father marry a woman like this? “Is… my father home?”
“No, I’m sorry, Lance. He said he had a few meetings he had to attend, but he should be home any time now.” Of course. It’s not like my fucking father would wait on me. Alright, sure, it’s not like I deserve to be waited on after my little stunt at the White House… But even if I did, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t fucking bother to be home waiting for me. It’s not like I give a fuck about it; I’m pretty used to stuff like this by now. “I hope you don’t mind being here alone with me,” she continues, my cock twitching again as a response to her words. Fucking hell, where did this woman come from?
“It’s okay,” I tell Jocelyn—my stepmother—as I run one hand through my hair. I look into her eyes, all of my thoughts turning into something no one should ever know about. I’m already imagining myself peeling the clothes off of her body, her naked figure slowly revealing itself to me…
Focus, I tell myself inwardly, trying not to make a fucking fool out of myself. What am I fucking supposed to say to her now? Chit chat until my father gets home? Oh, fuck no - two more minutes around her and I’ll have a boner so massive I’ll pass out from lack of blood. “I’m kinda tired from the trip. I’m just going to unpack my bag and take a shower, if that’s alright with you.”
“Oh, of course,” she replies, handing me my backpack again. Turning my back to her, I walk up the stairs to my room as if I were in a daze, my heart kicking against my ribcage. Holy fuck, how am I supposed to fucking live inside this house all these months? With that fucking woman walking around? That’s just torture, if you ask me.
I step inside my old bedroom and throw my backpack on top of the bed, slamming the door shut as I take one deep breath. I knew my father was ruthless enough to marry for political gain, but I never would have thought he’d end up with someone as hot as Jocelyn. I don’t mean to be a fucking ass about this, but it’s not like my father cares for the beautiful sex. He never really admitted it to me—let alone to the world—but there’s no doubt in my mind about where his interests lie. Good for him if he’s into men, I guess. I just find it in poor taste to drag someone into a fucking loveless (and most likely sexless) marriage.