Darla's life was tumbling out of control.
Oh, things were going well at work, but her personal life was a disaster. She had not had a date in a year and she was slipping into a doomed relationship with a married man. Not to mention her 18-year-old step-daughter, Emma, was acting more like 28. That is, a 28-year-old who was willful, immature and aggressively sexual.
Darla was determined to change all that -- to end her unhealthy relationship and save Emma from herself. Her campaign had started two weeks ago when she grounded the girl for bad grades and breaking curfew. But Darla had to watch Emma constantly to keep her in the house. She felt like a prison guard.
In fact, tonight she had taken a stand when she caught Emma trying to sneak out, dressed like Britney at her provocative worst. A screaming fight resulted.
"Maybe you can go the rest of your life without being loved!" Emma shouted, "BUT I CAN'T!"
Darla finally won the battle by virtue of her moral conviction -- and by screaming louder and longer. Defeated, Emma had thrown her purse across the kitchen and run upstairs crying to lock herself in her room.
Emma had almost won the battle when she made a sneering comment about Blake Alewine.
Blake worked in Darla's company, and they met while working on a joint project. Darla had blushed deeply when they were introduced. Blake's short curly hair, full lips and direct brown eyes somehow combined to hasten her breathing and weaken her knees.
Blake soon realized the effect he had on Darla, and he obviously enjoyed teasing her into a state of arousal. He made excuses to drop by Darla's office and flirt suggestively until her skin flushed, her breathing quickened and she sat squeezing her thighs together. Once they rode the elevator to a meeting together and he stood so close she could feel his warmth all down her back, while his breath tickled her neck.
Lately Blake had begun inventing reasons to drop by Darla's house on his way home from work. First it was to deliver some paperwork that really could have waited until the next day. Then it was one lame excuse after another.
Once inside her door, Blake would quickly invade Darla's personal space, making her retreat until her back was to a wall or corner. Then he stood or sat very close and drawled suggestively (almost whispered) until she could stand it no longer. Then she would push him away and demand that he leave, which he did, laughing mischievously.
He had never touched her though he was often so close she could feel his warmth and her skin became hyper-sensitive waiting for contact. She sometimes wondered why Blake hadn't touched her. The waiting was hard to bear even when she reminded herself that he was married, and letting him touch her would be a horrible mistake.
Sometimes when he left, Darla would rush upstairs, jump into bed and madly squeeze a pillow between her legs, yearning for release. But she was the daughter of a fire-breathing Texas preacher, and felt it was wrong to satisfy herself.
It didn't help that Darla had been celibate since her husband's departure more than three years before. He had gradually become obsessed with the idea of sailing around the world alone in his 36-foot cruiser. Then one day he simply packed, said goodbye and sailed away. He left her with a nice house, a meager income and his daughters from two previous marriages.
Darla dealt with abandonment by focusing on her work. Taylor, 14, became shy and withdrawn. Her half-sister Emma coped by seeking attention from men -- any attention from any man. Darla had fended off a whole series of Emma's unsuitable boyfriends.
Darla tried to be a good mother. She fretted and fussed over Taylor and sympathized with Emma's anger and need. But she couldn't help resenting the way Emma ignored Darla's problems -- acting as if her life were perfect.
And Darla would not have been human if she had not envied the gifts that made Emma a magnet for men. She was a beautiful teen and would obviously be stunning when full-grown.
Emma was at least two inches taller than Darla's 5-feet-5. And while Darla was resigned to having an average body, Emma's long legs, firm round ass and swelling tits drew men's eyes from a block away.
Even Darla found herself affected by the girl's loveliness. She sometimes had stifle an urge to stroke Emma's flawless skin or caress her luxuriant hair. Darla called her own short mop "boring brunette," while the girl's long hair was a dramatic honey-blonde.
Blake had met Emma several times at the house, of course. Most men were immediately smitten, but Blake only seemed amused at the girl's eagerness to be pursued. He had talked with her kindly, but briefly, then turned his attention back to Darla.
Emma was both surprised and unsettled by the indifference of an attractive man. And her disquiet increased when she realized that Blake really did prefer her stepmother. No man had ever preferred her stepmother since Emma had blossomed at 14.
So Emma sought Blake's attention whenever he visited, wearing revealing clothes and often hovering in his line of sight. But he ignored her efforts.
Darla finished washing the dishes after her battle with Emma. It was too late for Blake to stop by, she thought, realizing uncomfortably that she both dreaded and eagerly awaited his visits.
"Get ahold of yourself!" she thought. "Going any farther with Blake would be a disaster."
She paused.
"But it would be soooo good to get laid again!" she thought, hugging herself and feeling a flush rise in her face.
She was startled out of her musing by the ringing of the doorbell. Heart pounding, she peered through the glass and saw Blake standing on the porch. She opened the door, but left the storm door between them.
"Blake you can't come here anymore," she said with determination, though her mouth was a little dry. "Nothing is going to happen."
He smiled sweetly and her heart gave a bound. She was suddenly aware of a growing warmth between her legs, and of her half-erect nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of her bra.
"Please, Darla, just give me a few minutes and I'll be on my way. I just want to talk," he pleaded.
Darla was silent, trying to fix her face in a disapproving stare. But instead she stepped helplessly aside as Blake opened the door and came in.
In a few minutes he had done it again. He had backed her against a wall in the living room and was leaning so close she had to turn her head or they would have brushed noses.
"You want me Darla," he whispered. "No. You need me. I have something you desperately need and I'm willing to give it to you. Now. Tonight."
"No, Blake. That's not going to happen," she said calmly, avoiding his eyes. "It's wrong. You can talk all you want, but I won't give in."
He leaned closer still and kissed her lightly on the ear. Inside she melted, while outwardly projecting icy indifference. She started to push him away, but he took one of her hands and slid it down to his crotch.
She froze.
It had been long -- so long -- since she had held a dick in her hand. Darla felt Blake's length and thickness and warmth and she quivered inside. A mental picture appeared in which she was sucking his thick shaft, making him groan, knowing he was about to fill her mouth. She had to get away quickly or she would lose control. But then his arm was around her shoulders, pulling her face against his chest.
"You want it, Darla," Blake whispered.
