“You’re really making me watch a romantic comedy?” he asks, raising one eyebrow playfully.
“Of course,” I tell him. “And it’s not a romantic comedy… It’s a drama, actually.” I’m speaking, but I can barely hear my own voice. All that I can think about is that I’m on the couch with Lance, and we have the house completely to ourselves.
“Oh, even better,” he says, rolling his eyes with a smile. I sit up briefly, flexing my abs to punch him lightly on the shoulder, my heart tightening as I feel the hard contour of his bicep, and then turn my attention to the TV. I lay there as the opening credits roll by, suddenly feeling extremely self-aware of the fact that my legs are sitting on Lance’s lap. He has his hands resting on them, his long fingers spread over my tanned skin… Thank God I changed into shorts when I got home... Oh, what am I saying? Pull yourself together, Jocelyn!
Easier said than done, of course. The warmness of his fingers spreads up my legs and into my thighs, and I start breathing harder. Slightly moving his fingers, Lance starts massaging the muscles in my upper legs, rolling his hands back and forth over my skin. His touch is an innocent one—at first—but I start to grow wet all the same, my whole body burning from the inside out. There’s just no way I can control it, so don’t try to blame me.
“That feels good,” I purr, smiling at Lance. He looks at me, his hands still moving back and forth, massaging my legs, driving me completely insane… “You sure know how to use your hands.”
“You have no idea,” he replies, and I can’t help but imagine his fingers crawling up my leg, brushing against the growing wetness between my thighs.
“Maybe I do,” I tell him, slightly parting my legs and allowing his fingers to slide over and above my knees. My mind is burning, and I can already feel my thong growing damp.
When I move my legs over his lap, my mouth turns dry as I feel Lance’s hard cock—it’s tenting his pants and pushing against my legs, making my insides burn even more fiercely. I want to look at him, to let my eyes wander down to his crotch, but I still myself; I don’t dare do it, afraid of what might happen, so I keep my eyes glued to the TV. By now, all I see is a blur in front of me. My brain is busy with trying to picture his cock, imagining how it would feel rolling down my lips...
My eyes might be frozen in place, but I can’t say the same about the rest of my body. I move my legs again, opening them even more as I lift my knees and rest my feet over his lap. My heart is racing now, my feet so close to his crotch that all I need to do is move them an inch to feel his hardness. I almost feel nauseous, rationality and desire locked into a bloody fight inside my brain. Whatever it is that’s happening here, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to stop it. Or if I’m going to want to stop it.
While I’m struggling internally, Lance’s fingers keep massaging my legs, drawing closer to my inner thighs with each passing second. My unconscious pulling the strings of my body, I part my legs wide, allowing Lance’s hands to start rubbing the tanned skin on inner thighs, his fingers pressed on the line where the hem of my shorts and skin meet. My God, I’m so wet right now. My fingers twitch slightly, and I almost grab his hand and press it against my pussy—somehow, I manage to restrain myself, my heart on the verge of bursting.
His fingers go just one inch above the hem of my shorts, and my feet start moving as if they have a mind of their own, rubbing Lance’s leg over his jeans, much in the same way he’s doing to me. My feet roam dangerously close to his crotch, but he says nothing. Neither of us wants to be the one to break, but if we keep going like this… It’s going to happen, sooner or later.
I’m aching to let my feet move just an inch upward, to feel his hard cock pushing against me… More than anything I have ever wanted in my life, I want to do it. Take a hold of yourself, Jocelyn, I hear the voice of reason whispering at me. Get out now! It continues, act your age! Lance is young, and young boys can’t control themselves, but you can, Jocelyn. You can.
Look, I know, I know: he’s my stepson, and he’s fifteen years my junior. I know all that. But after so long without feeling a man’s cock getting hard for me… After so long without feeling someone burning with desire for me... There’s only so much that I can resist. But I need to do the right thing, and I need to do it now: I grit my teeth and try to command my body to move, to get out of the couch. For a split second, I almost think I’ll be able to do it, but at the last moment, what my body does is allow my feet to brush against the steel-hard shape under Lance’s jeans.