Alexs Stepmother Pt 01

At the age of 19, I lost my father to cancer. To say it was a major shock to the system is an understatement. Yes, we knew it was coming but that did not help prepare us for life moving on without him. When I say 'we', I mean my stepmother, Emma, and me. My real mother cheated on my father when I was 10. When he found out he kicked her out of the house immediately, not that she cared. She ran away with the other guy and we never saw her again. She didn't even fight for custody over me, leaving my dad to raise me on his own.

A couple of years later, when I was 13, he met Emma. A tall dark skinned 27 year old ex-model, now stylist. The best way I can think to describe her is like a perfect blend of the actress Zoe Saldana and the pornstar Lacey Duvalle. All I remember thinking when I first saw her was how beautiful she looked with her long jet black hair and big brown eyes. She was perfect for my dad, despite being over 10 years younger than him. Not long after, they got married and she became my stepmother. Little did I know that 7 years later, my father's death would lead us in a completely different direction...

Chapter 1:

The funeral was a sombre event. The service itself was hard. Emma and I sat on the front row and she cried constantly as I held her gloved hand throughout in an attempt to be strong for her whilst simultaneously trying not to fall apart myself. The wake was easier; Emma and I stood together, her in a knee length black dress with black shoes and gloves on and me in my best two piece suit. Everyone came and told us how sorry they were and that if we ever needed anything all we had to do was ask. It was mostly dad's business partners and such. Obviously we stayed until the last of the guests left and so it was getting on for 8pm before we arrived back home. The home we had both shared with my father for the last 7 years. It was a big house but seemed somewhat empty and hollow now without him.

I turned to Emma, her face looked gaunt and much like how I felt. "Well, I'm going to get changed and then hang out in my room for a while."

She met my gaze briefly. "Okay honey. Me too. I might drop in and see you a bit later if that's alright?"

I shrugged. "Sure." I wasn't really in the mood to socialise but as she was the only other person who knew what I was going through, I thought I should probably give her some time.

I didn't do much in my room. I changed into my sweats, sat down at my desk and went on my laptop. After surfing the web for a while and finding the entire of the internet boring, I leaned back on my chair and sighed. I had no idea what to do – at the age of 20 I was essentially an orphan. Except for Emma. I checked the time on my laptop, 21:30. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not had dinner and I was just contemplating going to the kitchen to raid the fridge when I heard a knock at my door.

"Come in!" I called from across the room. The door opened and Emma stood in the doorway. She had changed into the white silk dressing gown that my dad had bought her for one birthday. She had removed all make up from her face and pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. It was obvious that she had been crying, her eyes were still slightly red and puffy. I watched as she crossed the room and knelt down in front of me. Although I thought this odd, I shrugged it off internally; after all, we'd had a very trying day.

She stared at me with an undecipherable gaze for a long moment before slowly caressing one of my arms with her fingertips. "Tough day, huh?" She said at last. I could hear the sadness in her voice but there was something else there too. I nodded. I didn't really know what to say. I moved my hand and covered her fingers with mine. I squeezed gently. Emma fixed me with her beautiful brown eyes. Even in her awful state she was one of the most attractive women I had ever seen. But then again, she did used to be a model. "It's okay to feel this way, Alex." Her voice was full of love.

She crawled forward until her body was touching mine, then wrapped her arms around me and embraced me in a very motherly way. I encircled her waist with my arms and held onto her tightly, burrowing my head into her hair. In the heights of my despair, I still enjoyed her smell and touch – So much so that I felt myself getting hard. It was completely wrong and wholly inappropriate but I enjoyed the moment. Unfortunately, I knew it wouldn't be long before my stepmother also felt it, so I let go of her and tried to push her away. She didn't move. Instead she angled her head slightly and whispered into my ear, "We're going to take care of each other, Alex. So long as we stick together, you and I will be alright."

She leaned back until she was at arm's length and kissed me softly on the cheek. There were tears in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away.

"You should go." I breathed, knowing that if she looked down she would see my raging hard on through my sweats.

"Why?" She asked softly. I let my gaze drop to my crotch and felt hers follow. "Oh!" She said in a surprised voice. I thought she would get up and leave at that but what she did next rocked me to my core. Emma, my stepmother of 7 years, reached out with a hand and gripped the shaft of my cock through my sweats. I physically squirmed at the pleasurable sensations that shot through my body.

I watched on as Emma slowly stroked me up and down through the fabric. Although at first it felt like one of my teenage fantasises was about to come true, my brain was screaming at me that this was wrong, especially after we had just spent a large portion of the day paying our final respects to the man who was my father and her husband.

"Emma..." I started hesitantly.

She shushed me with a soft voice and gave me a stare of pure passion and lust, "it's okay, baby. Let me take care of you."

She released her grip on my cock and brought her hands up to the waistline of my sweats, hooking a finger underneath each side and slowly pulling on them. I lifted myself off the seat a little and she pulled them all the way down to my ankles. I wasn't wearing any boxers.

"Oh my!" Emma gasped at my cock. It stood up proudly, all 7 and a half inches of it. I suddenly realised that I hadn't jacked off today and as soon as that thought entered my mind, my balls ached for release and my cock jumped involuntarily. The head had an angry reddish purple hue.

I watched on as Emma licked her lips, not once taking her eyes off of my cock. She grasped it again in one hand, her fingers only just meeting around its girth and squeezed. It was so heavenly that I almost came there and then. She then slowly stroked up and down my shaft for a couple of strokes before lowering her head to my cock.

I could feel her hot breath on the head as her mouth hovered just millimetres away and I squirmed again in my chair, unable to believe what was happening. In what seemed like slow motion, she lowered her head the last little bit and planted a very soft kiss on the tip. Her lips were so tender and warm. She then silently parted them and her lips glided over the head of my cock, taking it into her mouth.

Now I had been given head once or twice before by a couple of girls and so knew how great it felt, even when the girl wasn't so experienced. But with my own stepmother, having Emma sucking on my dick... it added an entirely new level. Her tongue swirled around the head then she plunged her mouth deeper around my cock, coating it in her saliva. I tipped my head back into the chair and groaned in appreciation. On hearing my moans, Emma doubled her efforts, clearly she did not want this to last long – which was completely fine with me as by the way she was bobbing up and down, I really wasn't going to.

Every time she pulled back, she would swirl her tongue around the head and tip, and after three more rotations of plunging down on my shaft then coming back up and licking my head I could feel the cum rising up from my balls.

"Oh god, you're gonna make me cum!" I breathed, expecting her to take my cock out of her mouth and finish me with her hand. But she didn't. Instead, she gripped my shaft hard with her hand and stroked me off faster whilst simultaneously licking every part of my head with her tongue. It was more than I could handle. "Oh god, I'm cumming!" I moaned as the first spurt shot out of me and down her throat. She continued to stroke me fast as I came straight into her mouth and I could physically feel her swallowing my seed around me.

Finally, after my cumshots had subsided, she gripped the base of my shaft tightly and slowly moved her hand up, sucking the head like a vacuum as she did so, making sure to get the last of my cum out. Then, as she swallowed for the last time, she let my cock fall from her mouth with a 'pop' and looked me in the eyes.

"Thank you." She breathed. Then she got to her feet, turned on the spot and swiftly left my room.

I sat there stunned in post orgasmic bliss for a few seconds wondering what on earth had just happened before I came to my senses. I quickly pulled up my sweats and ran after her. I caught up to her about two thirds of the way down the hallway.

"Emma." I said hesitantly. She didn't respond. "Emma!" I shouted. She stopped but didn't turn around. "What the hell was that?" I asked, still in disbelief.

"Something I had to do." She said. Her voice quivered. "Go back to your room, Alex."

I started closing the gap between us, "Emma, I –" I needed to know what was going on, to get to the bottom of it all, but she interrupted me.

"Go back to your room, Alex!" She repeated, this time more fiercely.

I walked right up behind her and placed my hand on her shoulder to gently turn her to face me, "No, I –"

She span around on the balls of her feet and slapped me full force in the face, "Fuck off, Alex! Don't touch me!"

My face immediately stung where she had hit me and I could see the disgust in her eyes. Her actions suddenly angered me and my temper flared. If I didn't remove myself from the situation right now then I would risk doing something I'd regret. I gave her a long hateful stare; long enough to see the look she was giving me falter and then stormed off to my room.

I could hear her footsteps behind me as she followed, "Alex, I'm sorry!" She burst out but I didn't turn around. I didn't stop until I reached my door. "I didn't mean –"

"To what?!" I turned on her in the doorway. She surprised me by being a lot closer than I was expecting. "To suck me off like some slutty tart just hours after your husband's funeral?" I loaded my voice with venom, "Then turn on me afterwards like I forced you to do it?"

Tears were forming in her eyes but I didn't care. "Please, Alex let me explain!" She pleaded.

I backed over the threshold of my room and grabbed the frame of the door. "Fuck off, Emma!" I slammed the door in her face and locked it from inside so that she couldn't follow me in. I then stormed over to my bed and collapsed on it, my mind raging.

"Alex, please..." I heard her plead on the other side of my bedroom door. I remained silent. She then broke down in floods of tears and not long after I heard her feet padding away down the hall. Good riddance, I thought to myself. At that moment in time I had no compassion for the woman who was supposed to be the mother figure in my life.

Chapter 2:

Not long after I must've fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, my alarm clock display was reading 07:43. I wanted to lay there and stew for a while however I hadn't eaten now for over 14 hours and my stomach was making it clear that I was desperately hungry. The house was deserted so I quickly and quietly made my way to the kitchen. After a long gaze into the fridge and debating whether or not I could be bothered to make bacons and eggs, I settled on cereal. Midway through my second bowl, I heard footsteps in the hall and Emma appeared in the doorway in her dressing gown. She looked more composed this morning. Her eyes were no longer puffy and red.

She walked in and sat down opposite me without saying a word, then she pulled a small envelope from a pocket on her dressing gown and slid it over the table to me. "Read it." She said in a very controlled voice.

I looked at it with suspicion and didn't touch it. I took my time over swallowing my current mouthful of cereal, "What is it?" I asked at last. Although my anger had dissipated, the events of the previous night were still fresh in my memory and my face ached from where she had slapped me.

"Just read it." She said in the same tone, before adding, "Please."

I put my spoon down and picked up the envelope. I turned it around in my fingers and saw one word written on it.

Alex.

It was in my father's handwriting. I looked up at Emma briefly and she indicated for me to open it. I did so and inside found a letter from my father. I unfolded it and silently began to read.

My Dearest Alexander,

I can only imagine how hard these past few weeks have been for you now I'm gone. It saddens me greatly that I will not be there to share in your future triumphs, but knowing the extent of what I leave behind for you does bring me some comfort.

So far as the law is concerned, I have left my entire estate to you and your stepmother, Emma. This means you have equal claim over it. You may do with it as you wish so long as you both agree. However, that is not the only thing I want the two of you to share.

Despite your best efforts I'm sure; it is no secret that you find Emma attractive. I don't blame you, she is a very beautiful woman and she is very special to me. But like all women, she has needs and obviously I am no longer in a position to fulfil them. It is because I love your stepmother so much that I have insisted she not allow this part of herself to die with me. In essence, I have given her my blessing to move on sexually and I must ask that you respect that Alex. If another man comes into her life, you must neither get in the way of that nor resent her for it.

And now I must ask something of you that a father has no right to ask of his son – I need you to become that man. I know you look on Emma as your mother, but the fact is she is not. I need you to forgo these feelings and take my place next to her in the bed we shared. Although it is my wish that she find another man, it is also my wish that that man is deserving of her and as I think about it, only one man comes to mind; you.

She is my last gift to you, my son. You must love and cherish her like I have and in return she will show you wonders that you could never dream of. However, you must respect her wishes. I know it will take time to get over my death, for both of you, but it is also my hope that you will find each other through it. Please know that I am so proud of the young man you have become and I love you so very much.

Now and forever,

Dad.

I looked up at Emma to see that she had been watching me intently. I frowned, "so dad wants us to... What, exactly?"

She rested her arms on the table and looked directly at me. "A couple of weeks before he died, your father sat me down one night in bed and disclosed to me his master plan. Out of his death, he wants the 2 of us to become closer than any normal mother and son – step related or not." Her brown eyes studied me for any reaction as she spoke.

"So he wants us to hook up?" I asked in disbelief.

"Essentially, yes." She sighed, "but more also. He wants us to become lovers, but properly, like him and I were."

"Are we even capable of that?" I asked in all seriousness. As we spoke the implications of his last wish slowly dawned on me. Yes, I had fancied and admired Emma's looks and body from afar, and if I was honest with myself she had been my first love. But could I love her now? In that way? I didn't know.

"I honestly don't know." She said, more to herself than to me. Clearly she was having the same doubts and inner turmoil as I was.

"But last night...?" I allowed my question to trail off, unfinished.

"Last night was a trial run." Emma said clearly, as if setting the boundaries. "When your father told me his grand scheme, I had very clear and obvious reservations. I mean, I watched you grow up for fuck sake." Her causal use of the word let me know she was taking this just as seriously as I was. Emma was not a woman who condoned that language usually. "Before last night I honestly did not know if I could be with you sexually. But your father understood this and so he made me promise that the same night of his funeral, once it was all over and we were back here in this house, on our own, that I was to walk into your bedroom and give you a blow job. No offence, but he really didn't expect you to put up much of a fight."

She threw me a bizarre smile which coupled with her words, made me blush. I had no answer.

"His reasoning was that the longer I waited, the harder it would be for me – as obviously I would be the one to initiate things." She stared directly into my eyes, and I could see something in hers, pleading with me to understand. "He made me promise, Alex. And then I was to give you that letter afterwards."

Suddenly I understood. The events of last night fell into place in my mind and the guilt hit me in spades. "I am so, so sorry, Emma." I said at once, reaching out with my hand across the table and offering it to her. "The way I reacted –"

"Was entirely understandable!" She interrupted, taking my hand. "I walked in and basically threw myself at you. It was the only way I could do... Well, what I had promised your father. But I understand that to you it just looked like some heartless old whore was looking for some fun." I wanted to interrupt her and tell her that I didn't think she was old at all but she didn't let me speak. "Then when you came looking for answers I attacked you. I'm sorry about that by the way. From the giant red mark that is still on your face I'm assuming it hurt a fair bit." She squeezed my hand, "but I had to go and be alone and digest what had just happened."

"I completely forgive you!" I blurted out. I needed her to know that I didn't blame her but there was suddenly a question burning itself on my tongue, begging to be spoken. "So from last night... do you... I mean do you reckon we could...?"

Emma withdrew her hand from my grasp and I mentally readied myself for the worst. Then she smiled as she looked away from me for the first time and out of the window. I followed her gaze, it was raining but it wasn't too dark out. "Yes." She said finally, making my heart rate escalate. "As much as what I did to you last night felt weird, it felt wonderful at the same time and I did briefly enjoy myself, so no, I don't think there will be a problem." Her smile fell from her face and she looked back at me. Her features were full of sadness. "But it will be completely on my terms, for a long while at least. Regardless of your father's wishes and of what I did for you last night, I am still a grieving widow. And you are a grieving son. That won't change quickly. Will we ever have a relationship like your father and I had?" She shrugged, "I don't know. Will we be sexually active together?" She smiled wickedly at me, as if to show me that there was a part of her wanting it, but it was far from dominant right now. "Definitely. But not right now."

She paused to let me take that in but I could tell there was more she wanted to say so I let her continue. "Right now, I just want us to have a normal mother – son relationship, at least for the next few weeks. Are you okay with that?"

I nodded furiously, "That's fine with me,

mum!

" I put emphasis on the word. I never really called her mum, always Emma.

"Don't call me mum." Emma laughed; it was nice to hear her laugh again. It had been a while.

"Okay!" I laughed along with her before getting serious again. "I'm going to need some time to digest too. Not just this," I indicated between her and me. "But dad's death as well. I promise to be just a normal helpful son and nothing more until you are ready." I saw her physically relax at my words and smile, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "I won't make any advances, however I might sneak the odd cheeky look every now and then."