That’s right. I dreamt of giving my stepson a blowjob. Go ahead. Judge me, ladies. Tell me I’m nasty. I’m perverted. That I’m rocking the cradle. That he’s only 21 and I’m taking advantage of him at 36. That just makes me wetter when you tell me I’m not supposed to do that, okay? It makes the thoughts that I’m having in my head of turning toward Lance and spreading my legs for him to enjoy the body feel even more delicious and taboo.
Fine. I know. I’m sick. I’m twisted. Maybe I could even go to jail, who knows. Although, he’s not really even my stepson. He’s Michael’s stepson—not related to Michael at all. But just the fact that he looked at me as he was fucking me and said, “Don’t tell dad what we’re doing,” has gotten me all wet again. I can tell my cheeks are turning red.
He’s looking at me. Michael’s not here. It’s just me and Lance in the kitchen.
I hear Michael press the speakerphone on his phone in the office. The dial tone comes on. I hear numbers being pressed and then the voice of a man. Michael’s on a conference call.
He doesn’t even think to shut the door. Sure he’s down the hall but he has the volume on so loud I can hear all the way in the kitchen.
He never even considers me.
Lance is eyeing my body. I can tell. The way men used to eye me wolfishly before Michael married me.
I need to stop this. I need to stop him. Technically, we’re family.
I get up from my chair and turn around. I start to walk to the counter, feeling his eyes on me. The last thing I saw before I turned around was the bulge in his basketball shorts. He was tenting. That foot long cock.
Oh God, did I just wiggle my ass for him? Did I just shake it for him? Do I still want him?
What am I doing, hun? Why am I acting like this?
There are millions of women who haven’t had sex in six months, right? Marriage is about more than sex, right? Michael’s never so much as kissed me on the lips. In public, it’s always a pretend peck on the cheek. He’s never touched me. I’m pretty confident he blackmailed my father into forcing me to accept his marriage proposal.
But sure, that was wrong. But does it excuse my cheating on him?
No. I need to stop this. I’m at the kitchen's island. I put the coffee mug down and close my eyes. I hear Michael speaking from his office.
I bend over the counter, jutting my ass out. Toward Lance. I know he’s still there. I know he’s looking at my ass.
Yes, okay, I know. Shake your head at me, dear. Tell me I’m a slut, if you want. I honestly am so confused.
I’m swaying my ass in front of a young man’s cock and telling you I don’t want to cheat.
Maybe I need to just go somewhere else?
That’s when I feel his hands on my arms. I feel those strong hands first.
Then I feel his rock hard cock against my ass crack. The yoga pants are thin and I gasp as I feel his monster dick running over my ass. I want to whimper in delight.
“Lance, we can’t do this,” I say with noticeable shudders. I want it so fucking bad. “I can’t cheat on your father.”
Just thinking about what I said as Lance runs his cock up and down my ass is enough to get me close to cumming. What is it about this guy? I’m not usually into younger guys. I like older men, D/s type stuff. This is just so insane.
“I know Jocelyn,” Lance says in a deep voice and I feel his abs and chest against my back. His body is pressing up against me. He’s shirtless and I feel where his abs are rubbing against my bare back. Oh God. I close my eyes.
“I can’t cheat,” I say.
“Do you love him?” Lance asks.
I don’t answer. I can’t tell Lance the truth. That I didn’t even know Michael six months ago. That I haven’t learned anything about him since.
“Does he get you fucking wet, like I do?” Lance asks me. I’m thinking about that question when I feel his hands leave my arms and wrap themselves around me.
I need to put a stop to this. I need to…
His right hand travels to the waistband of my yoga pants and not even hesitating, dives in. I gasp as I feel his fingers go underneath my thong. Two fingers press down to the entrance of my pussy. Rubbing me delicately. Back and forth.
“Fuck, Jocelyn,” Lance says into my ear. “Does dad do this?”
Michael has never done anything like that to me in our entire marriage.
“I didn't think so,” Lance says. “He’s not someone who likes pussy.”
My eyes are half closed. My head lolls back into his. He leans over and kisses my neck right above my shoulders.
“You don’t…know that,” I manage to say. My breathing is coming in shorter gasps now as I feel Lance and his finger gently rubbing the hood of my clit, pressing down on it. He’s going to make me cum.